The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(19)

“Uh-huh.”

“Great. Come and I’ll show you around.”

I follow him up the hall. He shows me the bathroom, the laundry, the bar and restaurant. “You’re in the fossil room.”

“The fossil room.”

“Anyone over twenty-five stays in the fossil room.”

“I’m just twenty-five.”

He smiles as he marches off in the direction of my room. “Like I said.”

I follow him, and he opens the door in a rush. “Your bunk is the one underneath here.”

I stare at the unfriendly room: three sets of bunk beds and all-white linen. “Okay.”

“Rest up.” He smiles. “You’ll meet everyone when they get back tonight. Most people sightsee all day around here.”

“Okay.” I force a smile. I’m missing home already. “Thanks.”

He leaves me alone, and I climb into my bottom bunk. I get under the sheet, feeling the need for protection.

For ten minutes I doze. It’s been a long week: lots of nervous sleepless nights and then the long flight. I really should try to take a nap. I don’t want to be tired and boring when everyone gets back.

The door bursts open, and someone marches in. I can only see legs and body up to his head.

“What the fuck?” the guy mutters. He has an American accent. He tears his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor; then he rips his jeans off and kicks them to the side. “Fucking disgusting,” he grumbles. “When I get ahold of that guy.”

He takes his boxer shorts off and kicks them to the side.

I get a full frontal. Tanned skin, muscles, eight-pack stomach, and the hugest dick I ever saw . . . what the hell? My eyes widen. He doesn’t know I’m here.

Oh fuck.

Do I say something?

He turns and bends over to get something out of a backpack. I get a full view of his naked butt . . . and then some.

The door opens, and a woman walks in.

Oh no.

“Oh,” she purrs. “Somebody brought me a snack.”

“Fuck off, Bernadette,” he growls. “I am not in the mood. Get out!”

“When I find a snack in my bedroom, what do you expect?”

I wince. Oh hell . . . this is so bad. Nobody knows I’m here. Please don’t have sex; I will die a thousand deaths.

“I am not a fucking snack,” he yells. “I am a main meal. A ten-course fucking banquet, for your information.”

I bite my lip to hide my smile.

He so is.

He bends and gets out something from his bag. “And now, as if the day isn’t bad enough,” he yells to her as he holds something up to her, “I have to shower and dry myself with this piece-of-shit fucking tiny towel.”

He marches out of the bedroom, buck naked.

Bernadette hangs out the door. “You can’t just walk around naked, you know,” she calls.

“Watch me,” he calls back.

Bernadette disappears, and the door bangs closed. I lie in bed in a state of shock.

Jeez . . . who was that . . . and who is that comfortable being naked?





Chapter 5


I lie for a moment in a state of shock, and then it dawns on me.

He’ll be back for his things. If he sees me here, he will know that I was here the entire time.

Oh crap.

I jump out of bed in a rush and quickly remake my bed, and the door opens.

Oh no, he’s back.

“Hey.” A man smiles. He has long dreadlocks and a kind smile . . . he also smells bad.

Worst body odor ever.

It takes all my might not to screw up my face. “Hi.” I smile.

“My name is Basil.”

I shake his hand. “I’m Hayden.”

“Nice to meet you. We’re roomies.” He taps the bed above mine. “I sleep above you.”

“Great.” I fake a smile. Oh god . . . I’ll have to smell him all the time. Shit.

“Not too sure about this fossil thing, though,” I add.

“Ha ha, me too. Nearly choked when he told me, but to be honest I’m glad now. There are some real dickheads in the other rooms, young and stupid. Blind drunk all the time and so, so noisy.”

“Oh.” Relief fills me. If he is anything to go by, that means everyone in here must be nice.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

“America, a few hours out of New York. What about you?”

“Brazil.”

“Oh.” I smile. “I’ve always wanted to go to Brazil.”

“Yeah, it’s awesome. You have to do it.”

“You been traveling long?” I ask him.

“About a month. Hoping to meet some people and travel for another year with them.”

“Oh.” I smile. Me, too, but I’m holding my cards close to my chest until I know if I like the people. “Sounds great.”

The door bursts open, and that guy walks back in. He’s completely naked and holding a tea towel over his junk. “Hi,” he says casually, as if he does this every day. He bends and begins to get clothes out of his backpack. Totally unfazed.

“Hi.” I swallow the lump in my throat. His face is better than his dick . . . and trust me, the dick is good.