Page 2 of Naughty All the Way

I walk quickly, the clack of my boots mixing with the wheels of my suitcase as I flee like a damn criminal, my heart pounding.Please let me escape. Please let me escape. Pl?—

“Kay, wait up.”

Goddammit.But I don’t stop. If I don’t stop, if I make it into the elevators, then I can pretend I don’t know him.

“Kay, hang on. Kay. Kayla!” He’s literally shouting across the lobby, and if the aesthetic of this place was anything other than cottage core meets cozy lodge on a lake, his voice would have ricocheted off the walls.

I stop, beaten, and lower my head. I’m still not turning around. That lazy asshole can come to me.

And of course, he does. “Kayla, didn’t you hear me?” His blue eyes, with their ever-present mischievous sparkle, find mine as he grins. “Sooo,” he starts, splaying his hands out.

“No.” I try to go around him.

“Come on, you didn’t even know what I was going to say,” he wheedles, hopping in front of me and walking backwards.

“You want to stay in my room,” I shoot back. “The answer is no.”

His brow furrows. “Is it the money? You know I’m good for it.”

I laugh incredulously. “You’regoodfor it? That’d be a first.”

“You heard the girl,” he continues.

“Woman.”

“Woman,” he repeats. “And there aren’t any more rooms here.”

“Call the other hotel.”

“I did, and they’re booked.”

I slam my knuckle against the elevator call button, wishing it was Steve’s face. “Sounds like a you problem,” I say.

He slumps. “Kayla,” he says, his expression sincere. “Honestly. It’s our daughter’s wedding. Can’t we let bygones be bygones? Just for now?”

The doors ding open and I step inside. He follows.

I refuse to look at him as we go to the fourth floor. “You’re sleeping on the floor.”

“That’s fine,” he answers immediately.

“I’m serious. I don’t give a shit if there are two beds in this room, you’re on the floor.”

“Got it.”

The doors part and I walk out, striding purposefully in the direction of my room. Steve follows me, same as he always has.

2

GABRIEL

“Iswear, Gabriel, the money is ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I keep doing it?” Axl is lounging on my couch, still in his Jamie’s Lodge uniform and shoving an ungodly bite of pizza into his mouth.

“I just want to know how you manage to look like you do by eating that crap,” I answer, nodding at the mostly-eaten slice.

“All the gyrating I do,” he says, still chewing.

I shake my head. “I don’t need a visual of you shaking your dick in some poor girl’s face.”

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