“Uh, yeah.” I can’t even think straight right now. How am I supposed to function in business meetings only eight hours from now?

“Do you still want to order room service?” Hayden asks, rolling over to face me in the dim light.

I shrug. “Not really.” My appetite has vanished. Along with my common sense, apparently. “I might just turn in early.”

“Cool with me,” he says. “Mind if I turn on the TV? We could watch the end of the game.”

I reach over to the nightstand and hand him the remote.

He kisses the top of my head and pulls me onto his chest. He’s warm and solid, and I curl up like a cat, letting him hold me.

As the steady sound of his heartbeat thumps under my ear, a pit of dread churns in my stomach. I never meant to let this happen, but holy shit, I’m falling in love with him. I’m screwed—completely and utterly screwed.

And not in the fun way.

Chapter Seventeen

Hayden

In the morning, I stretch my stiff limbs and rise from the bed, then lumber into the bathroom and swing the door shut behind me. When I lift the toilet seat and begin pissing, I wonder why in the hell my cock feels funny. Like I spent all night fucking.

Then the memories start rushing back. Emery writhing beneath me. Her legs wound around my back. Our mouths fused together in hungry kisses. The tightest pussy I’ve ever felt milking me.

Damn. That was intense. Who knew my buttoned-up, yoga-loving lawyer would be a fucking rock star in the sack?

I want a repeat, but when I emerge from the bathroom, I can see her sleeping form still curled up in the heap of messy sheets. Knowing that she’s got another big day of meetings ahead of her, I decide to let her rest a little longer.

As quietly as possible, I grab a pair of sweats from my bag and go into the adjoining living room of the suite. Flipping through the hotel’s room service menu, I pick up the phone and order us breakfast and coffee, then sit down in the armchair with my cell phone.

Soon after, I hear her stir in the adjoining bedroom, soft footfalls of bare feet padding across the carpeting . . . then the distinct sound of her passing gas. Loudly.

I chuckle to myself, my mouth pulling up into a grin. The other room is totally silent until I clear my throat.

“Is there even a remote chance you didn’t hear that?” she asks, peeking at me from around the corner.

Her hair is an absolute mess and there are little smudges of black makeup under her eyes. She’s naked, clutching the white sheet around her chest. And her cheeks are stained bright red—presumably from embarrassment. But she still somehow looks good.

I chuckle again. “Don’t worry about it. It was cute.”

Her eyebrows dart up in surprise. “Cute,” she repeats, sounding confused. And then she dashes off for the bathroom, and probably the shower since her meetings start in another hour from now.

I hear the spray of water and the shower curtain being pulled along the rod. Lost in thought, I’m staring at my phone reading an e-mail from Hudson when it suddenly hits me and I bolt up out of my chair.

Cute? The fuck?

My heart begins hammering in my chest, and my palms break out in a damp sweat. Hudson’s words come rushing back to me. I realize that if I thought that was cute , my feelings for her are a lot deeper than I ever bargained for.

Picking up my phone again, I dial Hudson in a blind panic, trying not to freak the fuck out. He will explain this to me. He has to. I can’t let hysteria set in. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

“Yo,” he answers. “How’s Oklahoma?”

“It’s Nebraska,” I bark. I have no time for pleasantries. I’m dealing with a Code Red emergency here.

“Oh, right. What’s up, man?”

“She just fucking farted.”

A long silent pause. “So I take it you left her?” he says with a chuckle.

“No. Worse. I thought it was cute. I laughed it off and told her not to worry about it. She was mortified, of course.”

I glance to the bathroom door, which is still shut. The sound of water running tells me she’s still showering.

“Okay, we’ll talk this out. You can get through this,” Hudson reassures me with only a hint of a mocking tone to his voice.

“Damn it. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“What’s the problem? Did you guys have sex?”

“Yes. Several times last night,” I admit.

“And now you have real feelings for her?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“And the problem is what, exactly?”

The problem is so colossal that it can’t even be put into words. What’s happening between us isn’t just friendship, I’m falling in love with her. The one thing I vowed I’d never do again. It almost destroyed me last time, and every fucking time I see Roxy, it’s pushed into my face all over again. A constant reminder of what could have been. That can’t happen with Emery. I wouldn’t survive it.

“I’ve gotta go,” I tell him.

“Hayden, don’t do this—” Hudson begs, but I end the call before I can hear the rest of it.

Pacing the hotel room, I gather my stray clothes and toss them into my duffel bag. Then I pull on a T-shirt and my shoes, and I’m out the door before the shower even turns off.

My plan is to head straight for the airport and hightail it back to LA, where I can pretend like none of this ever happened. Outside the lobby of the hotel, I hail the first cab I see, tossing my duffel bag inside and then climbing in after it.