The Trade(26)

“Are you sure?” I ask, tapping my credit card on the sleek marble countertop.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry. We’re all booked. We have a large conference taking place this week. They’ll be indoors all day, not taking up pool space, but there are unfortunately no more rooms.”

Just my fucking luck.

I take the key card he gave me to the suite that was supposed to belong to Holt and his wife, and head to my group who already have cocktails in hand, luggage taken to their rooms by the bellhop.

“From the look on your face, I’m going to guess they put you on the opposite side of the resort, huh?” Jason asks. “Bastards.”

If only that was the problem I was currently facing.

“Actually”—I suck in a deep breath, my eyes on Milly—“they didn’t have any extra rooms. They’re all booked.”

“What?” Knox asks, looking at the front desk and then around the resort. “There’s barely anyone here; they don’t have one extra room?”

I shake my head. “Apparently there’s a conference here this week.”

“Oh,” Jason says, looking between us. “Huh.”

And just like that, the silence in the group grows as we all do the calculations in our head. Three couples . . . three couples who want to be alone in paradise, one single guy, and one married girl.

Four rooms.

Even if I try to figure it out in my head, I can’t think of a possible scenario that would work.

“Well, I can share—”

“Don’t even fucking say it,” Carson says, cutting Milly off. “This is my last hurrah before the season. I’m sure as shit not going to spend it in a scenario where my wife isn’t sharing a bed with me.”

“Carson—”

“No, it’s okay,” I say. “I’d be the same way.” Glancing at Natalie, I give her a small smile and hand her the key card. “You can take the room. I’ll go to another resort.”

“This is the only resort on this side of the island,” Jason says in a whiney voice, and then, “I think I might cry.”

“Pull it together,” Dottie says with a giant roll of her eyes. “This isn’t a problem. We’re all adults. Natalie and Cory can share a room. It’s a suite, after all, with a pull-out couch. They’ll be fine.” She’s so casual about it, but what would Natalie’s husband think about this? And why wouldn’t Jason be angrier that I’d be sharing a suite with his married sister? Does he simply trust me that much?

Hell, if Natalie were my wife, there’d be no way in hell I’d be okay with her sleeping in the same hotel room with another man for a week in a tropical paradise.

From under her long, black eyelashes, Natalie looks up at me and shrugs. “I mean, I’m okay with it if you are. Not like we’ll be staying in the room long; it’s just a place to sleep.”

Just a place to sleep. Okay.

Of course, she would see it that way, because she’s not the one crushing on a married individual.

She doesn’t see how my breath catches in my throat when she walks into the room.

She doesn’t hear the constant thoughts of her that run on repeat in my mind.

And she has no fucking clue about the dirty images I’ve conjured of her in my mind late at night.

“Then it’s sorted. Let’s get some cocktails,” Dottie says, taking Jason’s hand in hers and heading toward the bar.

“Knox and I are going to get settled,” Emory says, but from the way Knox is leaning into his girl, his mouth moving up her neck, I’m going to guess settled actually means have sex.

“Us too,” Carson says, his hand gripping Milly’s hip tightly. A protective instinct kicks in to remind the guy that she’s my sister, but I keep my mouth shut. They’ve been married for years now. She’s not mine to protect anymore.

Jason stops Dottie’s pursuit to the bar and says, “Babe, they’re all going to have sex, why are we getting drinks? Let’s bang.”

Dottie pauses and looks at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Why get a cocktail when I can have your cock in my mouth?”

Jesus.

Jason’s eyes widen and then turn dark. He pulls her straight to the elevators, and I fear for all the bellhops delivering their luggage.

Before I can take my next breath, all three couples are on their way to the elevator bank and mauling each other with their hands, leaving me in the lobby with Natalie.

Well . . . this is awkward.

Scratching the back of my neck, I look down at her and say, “Need a drink?”

“Yes,” she answers on a swallow, and just like that, we both head to the bar.





Sips.

Places drink on the bar.

Stares at pool.

Sips.

Pushes hair behind ear.

Sips.

Purses lips.

Swallows . . . turns toward me.

“You know, we can talk.”

I smile uncomfortably before bringing my beer to my lips. “What do you want to talk about?”

“How awkward and stiff you’re being. It’s just a room, Cory. It’s not like I’m going to poison you in the middle of the night.”

I take back my beer and smile. How can she be so casual about this? And where the hell is the guy anyway? I’m livid, for him. Idiot.