Page 30 of Flirty Thirty

“Enjoy the master suite,” Cooper quickly says, taking an exaggerated step around the bed to avoid the kitties. I press my lips together, shoving back the temptation to pick up either one of them and push them into Cooper’s arms. If I did that, there’s a good chance he’ll be shoving a poopy two-year-old in mine when we watch my niece in a few days.

Cooper brushes past me, running a hand down my arm in the process. A chill tingles up my spine, stealing away my thoughts for a moment.

“You tired?” he asks.

“Uh… uh huh.” Well, I was. I should be. It’s getting late, and I have an early day tomorrow. Yet here I stand, wide awake and hoping he gives in to the desire to touch me again.

“’Kay,” he says, and I search for any ounce of disappointment in his expression. “So you know, because we’re playing house, food is yours, pool is open, wander around… pig out and enjoy yourself.”

“How romantic.” I tilt my head. “Do I get to do any of these activities with you?”

He wrinkles his nose at me. “Not if you don’t feel like it. We’re ‘married’ remember?”

He winks, and I let out a laugh and tease, “I guess that means sex is off the table. You know… if we’re married and all.”

“We’re in for an interesting stay, aren’t we?” He says with a laugh. Shaking his head, he steps into me, heating up the already warm smile set on my lips. “Night,babe.”

“Sweet dreams,honey.”

He presses a kiss to my lips—one that is far too brief for my liking. For him too, I think, since he stays close even after pulling away, his eyes closed and his breathing picking up to an erratic and heady tempo. If he’s trying to prove that this sort of relationship is more fun, he’s failing miserably. I’m ready to screw the slow, medium temperature setting he’s got on this thing and dial it up to the heat of a fresh relationship.

His hand leaves the back of my head and falls against his side. He shakes himself from his thoughts and puts on a grin before turning to the door.

“Night,” he says again, and I chuckle at his drunken gait. When he starts down the hallway, I skip to the door to watch which room he’ll be taking, but he starts heading toward the stairs.

“Hey!” I call out. His blue eyes lift up and catch mine over the very expensive-looking banister. “What room are you in?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, cratering his cheek. He nods to the door adjacent to mine, and then starts back down the stairs. I don’t think I’m imagining the extra bounce in his step.

I duck back inside and shut the door, not only to keep my cats in, but to keep me from going out. I’m here for the amenities, for the view, for a staycation that I most definitely could use. I’m here to prove a point, and nothing more.

Nothing more.

I will not jump that man’s bones; I will jump on that bed.

Using a running leap, I flop onto the mattress, scaring the hell out of my kitten and making the old, grumpy one hiss in my direction. I sink straight into the foam; this must be a Cozy King. It feels much like the fluffy bed used in the photo shoot. Perhaps I’m not so concerned about chasing down Cooper anymore; there is a major possibility I won’t move from this spot my entire stay.

Tom hops onto my stomach, making me “oof” with the unexpected weight. He spins around and around and around, pawing at my t-shirt until he’s finally satisfied with the spot and sprawls down. The purring calms the anxious pitter patter of my heart, like it always does. The magic cats carry are half the reason I own them. I plan to own many more.

My phone vibrates against my thigh, and being careful not to disturb Master Grumpy Butt, I wiggle it free from my jeans and hold it above my face.

Forgot to tell you… the Wi-Fi name is prettyflyforawifi. Password Monster2319.

I bite away at my smile and stroke Tom a few times so he’s purring so loudly I can feel it in my stomach. He’s got to calm these teenage butterflies. Seriously, I’m thirty now. I found another gray hair just the other day.

Couldn’t just come in here and tell me? ;)

Honestly, I thought it would just look like an excuse to keep talking to you.

True

And it would be. It’s my excuse now.

I laugh, rolling onto my stomach and knocking Tom onto the pillows with a snoozing Kat.

This is new for you,I type.Usually you break the ice with something a normal person would keep to themselves.

Like how I’m fighting the unbearable urge to put this conversation on hold and explore every inch of that intoxicating mouth of yours?

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