by Stella Rhys
So he wouldn’t fight my fiancé—no.
My ex-fiancé.
“God, what is happening,” I exhaled, dropping my hands from Adam’s chest and hastily tying my robe shut.
But before I could fully get myself together, I jumped at the sensation of a buzzing at my feet. What the—? I looked down.
My phone. I didn’t even realize when I had dropped it. All I knew was that Caspar’s name and face were glowing on the screen, forcing my mind back to everything that just happened downstairs in his room.
And though I picked up the phone, I didn’t pick up his call. All I did was stand there, feeling my fury flood back as his stupid texts flooded in. One after another then another and another till out of pure irritation, I swiped to look at them.
CASPAR: Pick up the phone.
CASPAR: Let me explain.
CASPAR: AJ we’re adults let’s talk about this
CASPAR: For Christ’s sake don’t be this immature you couldn’t have gone far wearing that.
The last text sent me over, so without thinking, I fired back.
ME: You’re right I didn’t go far. I went to Adam’s room.
The text had barely delivered before he was calling again, and this time, I picked up. But I could barely open my mouth before Caspar hissed at me like the snake he was.
“What, are you going to fuck him, AJ?” he demanded, so livid I could practically hear his spittle hitting the phone.
“And what if I did?” I asked, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction when I heard the two seconds of Caspar’s sputtering gibberish before he finally made real words.
“AJ... just get the hell back here, alright? I didn’t have sex with Vicky and I swear to God, if you do anything with Adam, it’s over between us!”
“Oh, I promise you, Caspar,” I almost laughed. “It’s already over. But if fucking Adam means you’ll never speak to me again then I’ll go ahead and start getting naked for him now.”
“Goddammit, AJ! Just tell me where the fuck you—”
I hung up.
And as soon as it was silent again, I came back to earth, processing everything I just said… along with the fact that I’d just threatened to fuck my boss in front of my boss.
Oh God.
Eyes wide, I looked back up at Adam.
He was still standing right in front of me, a solemn statue watching me closely
“Sorry,” I said, my voice coming out breathy. “I was just trying to piss him off.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” he murmured. Silence stretched between us for another second before he said, “You know I have your back.”
I nodded, his words somehow assuring me and firing me up at the same time. I was so pissed at Caspar that I imagined something crazy. Something so screwed up I had to blink hard to get the filthy image out of my mind.
God. Okay.
Dial it back, I thought, sucking in a deep breath. You’re just crazy-brained because you’re angry and vengeful. So just breathe. Calm down, I told myself, though I couldn’t seem to do it, and my struggle was evident because Adam murmured, “Tell me what you need right now, AJ.”
“I…”
I need a drink.
I really did. But after taking a few seconds to really breathe, I realized what I needed first and foremost, which was my own fucking room. One without Caspar in it. And I couldn’t get that without my wallet or ID, which meant I needed my purse—which I’d stuffed in the suitcase I’d left at Caspar’s.
“Fuck, I need to get my luggage from his room,” I breathed out, raking my hands through my hair.
“Hey. Easy.” Adam stepped closer, his voice a low, deep rumble. Like a blanket, it draped a calm over my body that didn’t waver even as he touched me, gently pulling my arms down to my sides.
“Tell me the room number and I’ll go get it,” he said.
“I’ll go with you,” I offered. Adam’s jaw ticked.
“You’re barely dressed, AJ,” he said. Hearing him acknowledge the fact in words brought heat to my cheeks, so I only nodded as he said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Despite agreeing, I stared blankly for a little longer, so dazed again by everything that Adam brought me over to the bed, sitting me down before going to the mini bar and mixing me a whiskey ginger—what I always drank when I needed to pound a lot of something hard.
I watched as he then grabbed the remote, one-handing the buttons on his shirt as he turned on the TV. His eyebrows pulled together as he quickly scrolled the channels till he found one of my guiltiest pleasures: Catfish.
“There. Now sit here, breathe, and wait for me. Okay?” Adam said, taking my hand and wrapping it around the glass of booze. I nodded.
“Just… don’t hurt him, okay?” I asked with a wince. “Trust me, I fucking hate him and want nothing more than for him to get his ass beat into the ground, but he is absolutely the type to try and sue the shit out of you,” I said, opening the floodgates of my disgust for my ex. “So promise me, Adam… you can say whatever you want to him. Just don’t hit him.”
Sitting at the edge of the bed, I looked up at Adam pleadingly. His jaw noticeably ticked with irritation, but he nodded.
“Fair enough,” he said.
Then with his eyes still on me, he finished buttoning his shirt. But just as I felt a knot form in my throat, he turned around.
And off he went.
5
ADAM
No breaking his fucking jaw, I reminded myself on repeat, dragging my hand across my face as I got down to the third floor.
My brain was working overtime, because I was still furious, still seething over that worthless little shit Caspar, and at the same time, I was trying as hard as I could to erase what I just saw from my head.
But fuck, my brain was holding on hard to that image of AJ.
Her hands on my chest. The way she looked in that lacy fucking lingerie.
It definitely wasn’t the time to look, nor did I have any business looking because for Christ’s sake it was AJ and I wasn’t supposed to look at her like that.
But it was also completely goddamn impossible not to notice her body when she was nearly fucking naked. When her chest was heaving that hard as she looked up at me with those big brown eyes.
Jesus.
I felt every kind of fucked up there was right now, my mind jumping back and forth between the way she looked. How goddamned worthless he was.
He was already out of his league with her. And now this?
My jaw was clenched tight as I approached room three twenty-two. But as I rapped on the door, I gave myself a reminder. Rein in. No killing anyone, I told myself, getting about three knocks in before the door swung open.
Little shit, I thought the second I laid eyes on stupid, man-bunned Caspar who looked pretty fuckin’ shocked to see me. He stared wide-eyed for a second but then as if suddenly remembering his pride, he gnashed his teeth at me.
“Where the fuck is she?” he growled.
“I’m here for her luggage,” I said flatly.
Caspar glared at me full of contempt, huffing and puffing with his scrawny chest before hissing, “No fucking way I give that to you.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, easily pushing past him to get into the room.
“Hey! Hey, you can’t do this!”
Right away, he was sputtering. Indignant to the point of sounding cartoonish. He even threw in an accusation of trespassing before he realized that he was a hundred-fifty pounds soaking wet and helpless to stop me from just walking across the room to get AJ’s suitcase.
So with a sneer on his face, he switched gears.
“You know, I always knew not to trust you,” he said as I did a quick check to ensure that AJ’s purse was inside the suitcase. “But with her… fuck. Should’ve known she wasn’t any different. Or smarter. In the end, every girl spreads her legs for the dumb jock, am I right?” He attempted a laugh when I only glanced up with boredom.
Because
I knew what he was doing.
He couldn’t physically stop me from entering the room. Taking the suitcase. So now he was trying to provoke me. To get me to lose my cool.
“You fuck her, asshole?” he asked as I zipped the suitcase and stood back up.
I wore a blank look on my face as I stared back at him for a second.
“No,” I grunted my reply as I headed for the door. But I kept my eye on him, watching his shoulders relax, letting the relief set in before I stopped right next to him. “I didn’t fuck her,” I said, my chin tipped slightly up as I looked down at him. And slowly, as I felt his uneasiness rise, I let a look of satisfaction curl onto my lips. “But I did put my hands all over her,” I said, breaking into a full grin and watching his face go pale as I stroked my chin and laughed. “Shit, I couldn’t help myself. With the way she looked in that lacy thing?” I swiped my thumb across my lip, playing up the dumb jock persona. Just to piss him off. “Christ, Cas. I didn’t know she was hiding that body under there—she’s fuckin’ stacked. Thought she was gonna pop right out of that little lace thing she was wearing,” I said, sucking in a breath between my teeth.
And as the words came out of my mouth, the images flooded back into my brain. Of her body. Her smooth skin.
Her perfect fucking tits.
I felt my blood rushing as I let myself relive what the hell happened upstairs, but through it, I kept a smirk on for Caspar, still paused in front of him, giving him the chance to say something back.
But surprise, surprise. He didn’t.
So with a laugh, I shook my head.
“You fucked up, bro.” I clapped his shoulder hard. “But don’t worry. We won’t let any of that lingerie go to waste,” I said assuringly. “’Cause I’m going to be making her come all night. She won’t even remember your name by morning,” I grinned, tossing him an asshole wink just to put the cherry on top of his shit sundae as I strolled out of the room.
He was still standing there, paralyzed with fury when I left.
And while that thoroughly satisfied me, I didn’t exactly feel relaxed or at ease as I headed back up to my own room, because there were still several things to wrap my head around, starting with whatever it was that had happened between AJ and me at the door.
Or rather, against it.
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered to myself.
Because I knew what the energy usually felt like between me and AJ. Whether things were normal or we were in crisis. Whether we were having fun or fighting about something. No matter what was happening on any given day, the air between us was never unfamiliar. That was half the comfort of our relationship. We always knew what to expect with each other.
But whatever happened against the door before—that was new. And because it was new, it was chaotic, fucking with my head even as I let myself back into the room and found AJ standing ten feet from the door, staring down at her phone.
And when she looked up at me in surprise, I knew that Caspar had texted her exactly what went down in his room a minute ago.
“You told him we…?”
I brought the suitcase in and stopped at the door. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I mean I’m the one who started it, and I kind of… wanted you to,” she said sheepishly, chewing her lip.
The corners of my mouth curved up a little as I gave something of a laugh. “Then we’re good,” I assured her, hauling her suitcase onto the rack. I was ready to tell her to get in there—to grab her clothes and get changed—but something hanging in the silence told me that she had something to say, so I held off for a moment and when I looked up again, she was still standing there, looking at me.
Biting her lip.
“What did you say to him exactly?”
I clenched my teeth as I looked back at her—as I processed her swollen lips and that glimmer of something in her eye I’d never seen before. Something impulsive. And reckless.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to repeat it, AJ,” I finally said.
“Why not?”
I drew in a deep but silent breath as I just looked at her, saying nothing despite knowing the answer to her simple question of why not.
Because she was in a vulnerable state. Because I’d get hard as a rock if I told her. Because I couldn’t predict what was about to happen next, and while I generally thrived in that kind of situation, it was only because AJ was always in control—always three steps ahead me and ready to rein me in if I got too crazy.
And right now, she wasn’t in the place to do that. She was angry. Emotional. The fact that she was standing comfortably before me in just a silk robe and lingerie was the first sign that something was seriously wrong. The fact that she was also asking me to describe a fake scenario in which I’d put my hands all over her body was confirmation that the situation was entirely fucked.
So with the sternness I was used to getting from her, I doubled down.
“It’s just not, AJ,” I said. “Now come on,” I nodded at her suitcase. “Get dressed and we’ll order some dinner.”
She nodded through the first few words of my sentence but then blinked at me. “Don’t you… have a date tonight?” she asked, but I was already shaking my head.
“Nah. We’re doing room service and Catfish tonight,” I said, grabbing the menu off the table and handing it over to her.
She blinked at me a couple more seconds but then she nodded, taking the menu like it was an assignment. And once we were finished ordering, I gave two knocks on her suitcase on my way to the bathroom.
“Get changed. I’m gonna shower and once I get out, we’re gonna eat and drink and watch the trashiest shit we can find on MTV or Bravo or… fuckin’ HGTV if that’s what you want. How’s that sound?”
I glanced over my shoulder to catch her cracking a half-smile at the edge of the bed, a lock of hair in her face and her robe falling slightly off one shoulder.
“Sounds good,” she said, her voice soft in a way I’d never heard it, and her eyes briefly locked on me with a look I didn’t recognize. But then she turned back down to the menu, and as much as I wanted to linger for some reason, I didn’t. Instead I got into the bathroom and closed the door.
And as I stripped down, I turned the shower to the coldest water there fucking was.
6
AJ
I may or may not have crushed two full Makers and gingers while Adam was in the shower.
But in all fairness, I had every right to.
Aside from the whole Caspar-blowing-up-my-world-by-cheating-on-me thing, I’d had fresh mountains of logistical bullshit to deal with, namely the fact that this hotel—along with every neighboring one in Palm Beach—was fully booked for the weekend thanks to some golfing tournament, and on top of that, I couldn’t even cancel the reservation I’d made for my philandering liar of an ex-fiancé.
Did I expect to be able to kick him him out on his ass tonight? No. Did I fully hope I’d be able to do that for tomorrow and steal his reservation as my own?
Yes. Absolutely.
But apparently, canceling wasn’t allowed without forty-eight hours notice, which meant my ex could still cheat on my dime if he so pleased and I was shit out of luck in terms of a place to stay for tonight or tomorrow.
My third drink was consumed while avoiding eye contact with a freshly-showered Adam as he acted like it was no big deal if I just stayed with him tonight. And that consumption only accelerated as he turned to face the bar, allowing me to drunk-stare at the way the damp cotton of his T-shirt clung to his shoulders, dipping into those muscled lines in his back as he poured himself a drink.
“Considering you’re already hammered, it’s probably best for you to just stay in and try to relax,” he had said to me, to which I’d argued, “I am not hammered,” while stuffing an ambitious handful of fries into my mouth—a famously hammered behavior of mine.
And that was the end of that discussion.
I could
n’t remember if I’d put up much more of a fight about staying or not, but it no longer mattered, because at this point I wasn’t moving. It was well past 10PM and I was tipsy, tired, and very cozily snuggled in the plush sheets of Adam’s king-sized bed while he lay ten feet to my right on the couch in a white V-neck and sweats.
And thanks to the mental fogginess, I kept drifting in and out of realizing—despite how quiet and relaxed we were—that what we were doing right now was absolutely wild.
Because for how close Adam and I were, we had definitely never done this before.
We had never spent non-work-related time together, let alone hung out in pajamas together in his hotel room late at night. We’d also never gone such long stretches without trading barbs or being snarky in some way, and all this would be actively mind-fucking me right now if it weren’t for the fact that my brain was simultaneously exhausted and in a million other places right now.
It was halftime of the Lakers game when I’d turned on my side to grab my phone off the nightstand, but then a whole thirty seconds passed before I actually looked at my phone, because lying on my side, Adam was now directly in my eye line.
And as much as I didn’t want him to be, he was very distracting.
His long body was stretched out with one leg bent and one arm behind his head, and for how relaxed and casual the position was, it really did stupid wonders for showing off his hyper-athletic build.
I was basically forced to look.
With his arm folded behind his head, his bulging bicep was just right in my face and I could see his sculpted lats straining against the soft cotton of his tee—which, annoyingly enough, had ridden up, giving me a slight but very noticeable peek of his very deep-carved hip bone.
This is your boss, I told myself.
When I was this level of drunk and emotionally exhausted, it was all I had in my arsenal in terms of mental pep talks about not checking out certain people. Adam. Boss. Don’t look, I told myself in a caveman voice, which made my stupid drunk ass laugh.
