Page 32 of It Happened in Vegas

“I was right about Starla.” I stepped away and sat on the couch. I sighed and took off my shoes. “She will not make it easy on us, with the way she was glaring at me all night.”

“I felt like her number one enemy, like she held back for recon, plotting her next move. What the hell will tomorrow bring with her?” She crossed the room to her suitcase, the skirt of her black dress sashaying with her sweet hips, her every move tracked by my eyes.

“Don’t you worry. If she gives us any crap, I’ll put her in her place.”

“Well, it’s been a long day. We should probably rest. The schedule looks pretty grueling tomorrow. I like to shower at night. You?”

“Morning. Looks like we complement each other nicely that way.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll brush my teeth and hair first?” She disappeared with a handful of her things into the bathroom. The click of the lock warned me not to follow.

I smirked at the bed, wishing now we had that cot. All night lying next to her, I’d be painfully hard. That’s a given. A glance at the small couch didn’t make the entire situation any better. It would squish me, even curled up.

“Pillow wall it is.” I grabbed everything I could find, all the extra pillows and blankets around the room and closet, and built a rather fine barrier, in my opinion.

After she exited the bathroom, she sided up to the bed and grinned. “You actually built us a pillow wall?”

“Obviously. Wasn’t that the terms of our agreement?”

“I’m impressed.” She climbed in, then pulled her hair up into a scrunchie, bringing her creamy neck on full display.A neck begging to be explored by my lips.

“You’re still wearing your dress from this evening?” I flopped onto my side of the bed, arms behind my head.

She sat cross-legged on her side and awkwardly peered down at herself. “I brought nothing remotely close to pajamas.”

“Personally, I’ve always thought they were overrated.”

She snorted. “Me, too.” We stared at each other for a long beat while my brain stuttered over the possibility she could sleep in the nude every night. “But we should probably wear something. Do you have a t-shirt I could borrow?”

“If you insist.” I laughed and got up. I rummaged through my suitcase. About the only thing suitable I found was my beloved Denver Aspens hockey t-shirt, my favorite team. I tossed it over. “What self-respecting pretend boyfriend wouldn’t let his pretend girlfriend wear his shirt?”

“Thanks.” She giggled and pulled the shirt over her head, then wiggled and squirmed until she pulled her dress out from under the shirt. My mouth went dry.

“Neat party trick,” I quipped through gritted teeth, trying to maintain control. I’d like to see her do that again, but I wouldn’t push my luck tonight. I left her there and practically ran to the shower to take care of my twitching cock.

When we finally settled under the covers, the pillow wall between us from the neck down, I turned onto my side, propping my head on my hand. “You want to know why I really hate Starla?”

She set down her phone and shifted to her side, facing me as well.

“Behind the scenes,” I said, voice low, “she was ruthless. I signed an NDA, so I’m not supposed to share specifics of what went down behind the cameras, but I think it was obvious to the fans how she manipulated everything. Stirred up drama between couples. Fed lies to Melanie to get people kicked off. She and Vanessa were thick as thieves. Cassandra too, a little.”

“Believe me, I was Camp Keaton all the way. I hated Starla cost you the win. By the time America had to vote on either you two or Vanessa and Ben, I think everyone was tired of Starla, but felt bad for you.”

I glanced up at the ceiling. “I thought maybe I could find love on that show. Stupid, right?”

“Not stupid,” she whispered.

“Starla made sure I didn’t win. Made sure no one did but Vanessa and Ben. She was there to play a game with no actual intentions for anything else.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy with old wounds. It brought down my mood.

“I noticed,” Sophie said after a beat, “how Cassandra was looking at you tonight.”

“Case in point.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before Anthony locked her down, she used to text me. A lot.”

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