Page 10 of My Instant Karma

“Not that she ever uses it,” Evan remarks.

“Are we done hazing for tonight?” I ask. It’s after three in the morning, and I can’t handle any more of their crap. “I’m tired.”

Evan bows and shows me to my actual room three doors down the hall. “Until tomorrow.”

My room is simple but nicer than most of my former apartments. It has a full-sized bed with expensive sheets, pillows, a fluffy comforter, a large dresser, a small desk, and a spacious closet. However, there’s no ensuite bathroom.

Great. Fighting over the bathroom with these pretty boys means I will be lucky to get a decent shower. No wonder they call this place the barracks.

Once I’m alone, I strip off my dirty clothes and toss them on the small desk chair, then I grab my makeshift pajamas from my bag—a worn T-shirt that reads, “Spiritual Gangsta”—and slip it on.

I don’t feel like a spiritual gangster though. Then again, I suppose I’m Karma’shenchwomannow. I rub my face and crawl into bed. Fortunately, the mattress is made of heavenly clouds. Well, maybe not, but it damn well feels like it. Exhaustion hits me, and I’m out.

* * *

I wake to the sensation of a warm body pressed against me. At first, I move closer, loving the comforting feeling that makes me think of warm cookies and cocoa, but then my brain registers that I haven’t invited anyone to my bed.

Being the big spoon in this configuration, I let go of the person’s waist and shove against a solid, muscular back. It barely moves a millimeter.

Dante, aka Hot-as-sin, sleepily whines, “Why are you pushing me?”

“Why the hell are you in my bed?” Since he isn’t moving away, I push myself to the other side of my small bed and fall off.

When Dante hears the loud thump I make on the hardwood floor, he turns over to see what’s happened.

I stand up, revealing my skimpy outfit of a T-shirt and underwear. The moonlight filtering through the window is just enough for us to see each other clearly.

Ignoring my exposure, I growl, “What are you doing in here?”

His sky blue eyes seem to catch all the moonlight, and I almost fall for the puppy dog look he gives me. “Like you said, I needed to be the little spoon soon or I’d cry. You don’t want me to cry, do you?” He sulks.

I open my mouth to tell him that yes, right now, I kind of do, but he cuts me off, sounding forlorn. “Please don’t answer that. It would wound me too much to hear you speak ill of me.”

“Oh, yes. A stranger who you have been accosting all nightmightnot like you, poor baby.” I lean over and shove his hip to make him fall out of my bed, but it doesn’t work. “Now get out. Haven’t you heard of sexual harassment?”

“I have, but thisisharassment central. It’s my job, babe.” He grins as he slowly sits up, the covers sliding down his perfect bare chest. If I stare at his lean muscles any longer, it will qualify as harassment. There might be drool involved too since, unfortunately, it has been far too long since I had a good hookup.

He grins and winks.Dammit, he must have read my mind again—although I suppose he could have just read the hungry expression on my face.

I cock my hip out and fold my arms. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, let me know when you are, sweetheart.” He pulls the covers back, revealing he isn’t wearing anything while invading my bed.

My throat goes dry, and I piously avert my gaze. If I’m going to work with him in close quarters, then I don’t need to have that deliciousimage in my head every time I look at him.

Thankfully, my intuition tells me that even though these guys are hazing me, they would never cross the line and force themselves on me. Dante could have been the big spoon and gotten handsy, but he didn’t try that.

He saunters over and whispers, “You sure you don’t want to taste my warm cookies and hot cocoa?”

I turn away. I can’t let Dante see my flushed face, although he can probablyreadmy involuntary interest in his… tasty treats.

I point to the door. As soon as I hear it click shut, I hurry over and shove the desk in front of it since the locks don’t seem to keep out hot perverts.

Needless to say, I have a hard time falling back to sleep. Dante’s masculine scent of sandalwood and cloves lingers on my pillows. Why does he have to smell so good?

Will the hazing ever stop? Or is my life now going to be an endless series of confrontations, battles, and harassment with these frustratingly hot guys?

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