I flop back on the other bed, link my fingers behind my head, and stare at the ceiling.
Did I just fuck up?
Million-dollar question, dumbass.
No, it wasn’t a bad idea to give Arden a place to stay while she sorts out the screw-up over her reservation. I don’t know a damn thing about her ex-boyfriend, except for the reactions I saw from Maya, Matt, and Arden herself. That pretty much tells me all I need to know.
He’s an asshole. And what the hell’s he doing here, thousands of miles from home? With Arden’s sister? Attending the wedding of Arden’s cousin?
Something is seriously wrong with this picture.
Worse, there’s a chance this won’t get resolved with the hotel finding her another room. There’s no arguing over the fact that the wedding and the tour are eating up all available rooms. So . . .
If she can’t find another place, how’s Baz gonna feel about having a roommate?
Shit. My boyfriend shows up here the day after tomorrow. I can’t really take back the invitation now, even if I didn’t consult him first; she’s Maya’s cousin.
He’ll be a good sport about it, and you know it, I scold myself. And he will be. He’s a stand-up guy, which is one of the reasons I love him.
Don’t pretend to be such a dense motherfucker. That’s not the real issue, and you know it.
I sigh and close my eyes. The symbolism of what I’m doing doesn’t escape me. I don’t want to admit the truth, so I’m trying to hide from it.
But it’s there, like a huge neon sign staring me smack in the face.
Despite any or everything else, I’m physically attracted to Arden.
Fuck.
The thing is, I don’t really identify as gay. I’m bisexual. I’ve had girlfriends in the past, and I still get hard for women. Baz and I even had threesomes with women, back when we were first together. It was hotter than hell at the time, and doing it again is one of my secret fantasies. Baz doesn’t have the same need.
Once we made a commitment to each other, we pretty much gave up on that kind of thinking. At least I tried to. My boyfriend and our relationship are way more important to me than any fantasy, and so I do my best to keep it there, safe in the back of my mind.
But here I am, facing my body’s unexpected reaction full-on. My cock noticed Arden in the lobby immediately, liked the touch of her hand, cheered when she agreed to share our room. And now, here we are.
Goddammit.
Why does this come as some major fucking surprise? I mean, she’s a beautiful, desirable woman. Her hair’s dark blonde, almost brown, and straight. It feathers around her face, framing oddly pale green eyes. They’re kind of a sagey color, rimmed with dark circles that makes her look both wise and mysterious.
The rest of her features are fine, delicate, and evenly set. Except for her mouth. Jesus, those lips are full in a way that tempts me to taste her in long, deep kisses.
Then there’s her body. Holy Christ! The family fat girl? Now that’s a crock of shit. Her curves are round and full, yeah, but who doesn’t love a woman with generous hips and full, pouty tits? It’s a classic hourglass figure, and I’d love to see it unencumbered by clothing—or anything else that hides all that beautiful skin from my gaze.
I sigh again and remind myself that I’m looking at her like a photographer—an artist of sorts. A subject I’d like to capture on film.
And I’d like that. Very much.
That’s all it is, I insist to myself. I’d never cheat on Baz and won’t act on my attraction. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t still there, hot and thick and way too fucking persuasive.
Worse, it reminds me of something else. Something I’ve been trying to forget. Or at least not allow to have too much importance. With Arden in the next room, I can’t seem to avoid it now.
My consciousness is suddenly filled with the sometimes painfully honest conversations that Baz and I have had. The ones about how much we love each other, how happy we are together . . . but how, sometimes, it still feels like something’s missing.
Baz says it’s his schedule. He manages the rock band Wycked Obsession, and he spends a lot of time with them. They just finished a three-month tour, and he traveled with them to every show. There are other times when they’ve needed him in Austin, where they’re based.
I don’t deny that it creates problems when he’s gone so often and so long, but it’s more than that.
Or is it? Really?
Maybe it’s just that fucking fantasy of mine, trying to find an excuse to find daylight through the darkness of my psyche. Trying to coerce me into looking for a way to convince him that we need a woman’s touch in our lives. The addition of some female energy to balance out the testosterone we offer. I mean, it’s totally skewed right now, because neither of carries much of a feminine gene within us.
Baz hates when I talk like that.
So, yeah, that’s why my attraction to Arden is so fucked up.
The shower turns off, offering a sense of relief. Good. She’s done.
No more imagining her naked in there. Or thinking shit that’s not good for anyone.
Arden thinks I’m gay, and that’s enough to put a barrier between us for now.
I leave Arden napping in the room and head out to find Matt and Maya. I was a good boy, kept my eyes on Arden’s—or at least I averted them from her lush body—and encouraged her to climb under the covers for a quick power nap, according to her definition.
Why not? She needs it. The eighteen or so hours from Chicago to Hawaii isn’t an easy trip to begin with. I’ve already had an extra day to acclimate from the East Coast, and I’m still not at 100 percent. Plus, I didn’t have to deal with the crap she faced.
No room of her own and an ex who’s here as her sister’s date? Nope, she definitely deserves a break.
I ignore the looks in my direction as I circle the pool, looking for my stepbrother and his fiancée. That doesn’t mean I’m not aware of them. It’s always been like that. Women—and men—notice me for some reason.
They seem to find me good looking.
I’m not sure why. I’m tall but not overly muscular. I have a leaner, more wiry build, and while I do stay in shape, I’ll never be buff like Baz. My facial features are a little too fine to be called handsome, but not enough so to be considered pretty. My hair’s too curly to do much with, and it irritates the crap out of me.
So what do others see that I don’t?
Never been able to figure it out, so I do my best to ignore it for the most part.
I find Matt and Maya snuggled up on a lounger on the far side of the pool in a corner. “Hiding out?” I laugh as I pull up an empty chair.
Matt grins and pushes himself up a little. “Thank God we’ve got a honeymoon coming up.”
“Where’s Arden?” asks Maya, peeking over her sunglasses.
“Taking a nap.”
“Good.” She nods. “She needed it. That’s such a long trip.”
“Agreed.” I nod. “But she needed a little more of a break than that.”
“What?” Maya sits and shoves her glasses up on top of her head. “What happened? Did she see Eddie?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not in person. But he still fucked her over.”