Page 57 of Reluctantly Rogue

I feel the tension creeping up my neck into my head. “Then move us to a different suite. We require two bedrooms and two bathrooms.”

“I will be able to do that in a couple of days. But our other suites are occupied until then.”

I stare at her. I’m not used to inconveniences. Honestly, for the royal family, things just seem to work out. I know intellectually that isn’t true, and they have a whole staff that handles inconveniences so that itseemsthat everything always works out. Still,Idon’t handle things like travel arrangements or itineraries, so everything seems to just fall into place for me as well.

“That will be fine.” Linnea says to the woman.

“It’s not,” I say firmly. “We require two bedrooms and two bathrooms.”

Linnea looks up at me with a frown. “And they can’t accommodate that right now. So we’ll make do.”

“Actually, I will get a hold of someone,” I say. “They’ll move us to a different hotel.”

The woman behind the desk looks distressed. “I am so sorry, Mr. Greene. Please let us try to make this right. I can have repairmen in there today. It’s just the shower that’s not working. Everything else in the bathroom is fine.”

I feel Linnea’s hand on my arm squeezing gently. “That is not necessary.” She looks up at me. “There’s one working shower. Two bedrooms. We have more than enough space. We’ll be fine.”

Fine. That is absolutely not the word I would use.

Sharing even a shower with this woman is a terrible idea. Torture, in fact. I will have to smell her bath gel, shampoo, lotions, and perfume. Not to mention, seeing the towel she wrapped around her body and trying not to picture her body wet, slick, glistening...

Like I am right now.

Fuck.

I am absolutely picturing her wet body wrapped in only a towel.

I squeeze my eyes together and pinch the bridge of my nose.

I’m not going to argue with Linnea in the hotel lobby. We can deal with this upstairs.

“Show us to our room, please,” I say curtly.

“Of course. Right away,” the woman says. She shoots Linnea a grateful smile.

Of course, Linnea is handling this with grace and ease.

Because this actually isn’t a huge deal.

If it was Torin and me traveling together, I wouldn’t think twice. Hell, Torin and I have shared asleeping bagin the past. It was not a good night, and I don’t want to repeat it, but we both lived through it.

And fuck, now I’m imagining sharing a sleeping bag with Linnea. And she’s still wet and wrapped in only a towel.

A bellman hurries over and takes our bags. I don’t need help getting our bags upstairs, but I decide it’s a good idea to have an extra person in the elevator with us and in the room for the first few minutes until I can get my shit together.

I follow him to the elevator. As the door swooshes open, out of habit, I put my hand on Linnea’s lower back, then immediately snatch it back as if I’ve been burned.

But now I’m definitely standing close enough to her that I can smell her perfume and can study the wisps of hair that have pulled loose from her ponytail and are lying against her slender neck.

The ride up seems to take forever, but we’re finally walking through the door of the suite.

“Where would you like your bags?” the bellman asks Linnea.

“I’ll take the room without the shower,” she says. “Whichever that is.”

“Absolutely not.”

The man stops in his tracks at my firm words.

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