Page 20 of Playing for Possession
Kieran wrinkled his nose and peered around the compact hotel room. “It’s small.”
The size of the room wasn’t as much of a problem as what the room contained. Two bedside cabinet lamps spilled low light over a plush king-size bed. Thick plum blinds hung over a large window. No couch in sight, only a suede armchair in the corner. A wave of unease washed over me. Maybe the bathtub wasn’t a bad call.
Kieran yanked open the drawer of a bedside cabinet and pulled out a Bible. “Is this it? Seriously?”
I folded my arms. “It’s nice enough. We’re not all Premier League stars.”Not like anyone on the women’s team got the presidential suite.
He sighed, dropped onto the bed, and retrieved his phone from his pocket. “There has to be somewhere else.”
“This late?”
He kept his gaze fixed on his phone. “It’s too late to bother my agent. I won’t wake her. I’ll sort it.”
Kieran paced the room as he made one call after the next. His white shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbow, revealing a hint ofink and toned forearms. His tailored shorts emphasized his strong athletic legs and incredibly defined calf muscles. Even after a day of travel and taking impromptu center stage at a party full of strangers, he looked like he was about to catwalk for Armani.
His gruff Spanish words wrapped around me. I didn’t need to understand to get the gist of what he was saying. With every call my heart sank. If he couldn’t find somewhere, we’d be stuck here together, and it was my fault for giving his room away. I’d just been trying to do the right thing. The mother of the bride had been distraught.
After the sixth call, Kieran scratched his head. “I don’t know what to do. It’s late. Everything is booked.”
This was ridiculous. I was tired enough that I didn’t care. “What about if I sleep on the floor? You have the bed.”
He passed his phone between his hands. “No way. If we share the room, you take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
I couldn’t let one of Calverdale’s finest sleep on the floor. What if he got a crick in his neck or something? I’d have the Calverdale United fan base baying for my blood, and no one wanted to mess with some of that lot.
“You should be in the presidential suite right now. I’m the one who gave away your room. You take the bed,” I said.
His jaw set at a stubborn angle. “This isn’t a debate. As long as you don’t mind sharing the room with me, I’m on the floor.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with that.”
He shot a dubious look at the gray patterned carpet. “I saw a documentary once where they used black light in a hotel room. That carpet is basically one big semen stain. If I could handle the duvet with tongs, I would. I’m not letting you sleep on this floor.”
“That’s very... chivalrous of you, but this is my fault.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m sleeping on the floor. I made my bed—of semen—and now I’m going to lie on it.”
“Your bed of semen?” His lips curved with humor, but didn’t quite tip over into a smile. “Listen, my mum raised me like this. I can’t go home and tell her I let a woman sleep on the floor while I slept in a bed. Just get in the damn bed.”
I lifted my glasses and rubbed at my aching eye. We needed to settle this and go to sleep. “We’ll toss a coin.”
He threw his hands in the air. “I’m not tossing a coin. I’m losing brain cells with this conversation. Please get in the fucking bed before I pick you up and throw you on it.”
His tone left no room for argument. Fine. I was too tired to fight him on it anyway. This man was infuriatingly stubborn. If he wanted to sleep on the gross floor, then I couldn’t keep arguing about it. Unless...
“Look, we’re grown adults. This bed is huge. I’ll sleep on one side, and you sleep on the other side.”
He raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Together?”
Heat stroked my cheeks. “No. Not together. Separate... in the same place.”
It was definitely together. Propositioning a man to share a bed with me wasn’t on my bingo card for this trip.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sharing a room is one thing. Sharing a bed... that seems a bit... much.”
His guarded expression made me feel ashamed for even suggesting it. “You don’t need to look so horrified. Forget I asked.”
I hadn’t meant to sound petulant, but the tiredness had ground down my filter.
“I’m not horrified. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
