This morning he has a little bit more brown stubble that manages to frame his square, sexy chin even better and gives him that irresistible gruff look.
Because there’s actually a fine line between sexy framing stubble and mountain man ready to murder you with an axe, and not every man can pull it off.
Luckily, Jellybean can. I stifle a laugh at our nicknames for each other: Jellybean and Coconut.
Anyway, it’s because of the strong chin, piercing sea-green eyes, and rippling muscles that I chose Jellybean to be my first ever one-night stand. Well, that and the fact that he looks incredibly sexy in a suit. Fine, now that it’s over I can admit that he has a lot going for him.
He rolls over softly, and his hair is only slightly messy which of course only makes him look even hotter. It’s not fair. Who looks that sexy asleep?
Suddenly I have to resist the urge to run my fingers through his thick, wavy brown hair. I want to mess it up again, like I did last night.
When I add the score, the result is that he’s sexy, funny, and great in bed. I shake my head gently. It’s too bad he’s a tourist.
As I stare at him, I realize there’s something different about his face this morning. The stress lines are gone from around his forehead, and the little wrinkly worry underneath his eyes have melted away. But sure, they all look angelic when they’re sleeping.
Thinking about last night brings back wonderful memories that make me smile in the semi-darkness. If I did ignore my no tourist-dating-rule and sneak off to have a hot one-night stand to get myself out of a love life slump, I could certainly do worse than the guy lying next to me.
And staying in the Royal Presidential Suite was a nice bonus.
Honestly, I could spend all morning wrapped up in these satiny sheets.
But it’s not going to happen. Not because of any regrets that I have. Because it’s the perfect crime. Now I can sneak out of here and go on with my life. Nobody other than me will ever know that I broke my number one rule or that last night even happened.
My phone vibrates again, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turn the alarm off and stretch, careful not to make any noise. No sense waking him and endangering my total victory.
I pull the covers back and slip out of bed as quietly as I can. Ha, like a ninja. Then I freeze for a moment, holding my breath just to be sure.
He sighs and snuggles his head back into the pillow. In his defense, and I know this from experience, they are really comfortable pillows.
I realize I’m holding my breath and release it softly. Whew. It’s okay, Kaylee, you can breathe. Breathing is good, passing out onto the floor and waking him up is bad.
Looking down, I realize that I’m still in Jellybean’s old college t-shirt. It’s soft and warm and smells of his scent. Pine and musk and old cedar. Before last night, I never caught this particular scent before, but it’s intoxicating. and I’m already in danger of wanting more.
The t-shirt hangs just past my hips and fits in that perfect, satisfying, way. The way that covers almost everything important in a soft, long-broken-in, non-constricting way that also manages to not look like a Momo.
It’s sleep tee boyfriend shirt perfection, minus the boyfriend. I decide to steal it. A soft, comfortable, delicious smelling memento of the occasion. Besides, if he is as rich as he lets on, he can afford to buy a thousand more Harvard-College Of-Business tee shirts if he wants. And if he’s faking it, then he fully deserves to have the tee stolen.
The morning sunlight picks up intensity behind the curtain, making it easier to locate my clothes on the floor. I gather them up in my arms into a clothes ball. Then a decision has to be made. Where do I change? I decide it’s too risky to change here in the master bedroom.
Last night I saw several other bathrooms scattered around the suite. I’ll just use one of those.
I tiptoe dramatically to the door, excited at the prospect of slipping out and getting on with my life. It’s exhilarating. Like I’m pulling off a crime. Not a real crime. A pretend crime. Either way, there’s a little bit of a rush from it.
Then I crack the door open. It gives a nerve wracking and unexpected creak.
I freeze again and force myself to breathe in and out. Stop holding your breath, Kaylee.
The moment passes and he stays asleep. I take the opportunity to sneak all the way out of the room, still holding the clothes ball lightly in my arms. Then I quietly shut the door. Whew. Did it.
I turn toward the rest of the suite. The morning is a beautiful one. Light streams in through every window, and I can see that the beach already has people sprinkled across it.
The windows are open, letting in a gorgeous morning sea breeze. I tiptoe lightly across the suite to look for another bathroom.
Which is funny. I’m still tiptoeing even though I’m not in the bedroom anymore. I exhale, breathing out a small laugh.
Then I pass right by the man and the woman sitting nonchalantly and freakishly quietly on the couch to my left.
I freeze again, my brain trying desperately to back up and process the information. Are there really people right there sitting quietly on the couch? Have they been here this whole time? Who are they? What are they doing here? Why didn’t I see them before?
Maybe I imagined the people. I take a couple of steps backward past the couch again. There are, in fact, two people sitting there. One man, one woman. Sitting absolutely silent on the couch. Who does that?
I stare for a moment. They are not sitting next to each other couple-style, more like hanging out with
