Page 1 of Hot Blooded

REVA

Groaning, I pull the pillow further over my face, trying to block out the glaring light that’s just barely peeking past the fluffy barrier.

“Oh god,” I groan, feeling my tummy roll over and my body break out in a cold sweat.

This is why you should never drink until you don’t feel the pain and confusion that sometimes happens after you finish school.

I just wanted a night off from all my worries. Especially my Dad. He loves me. I know he does. Unfortunately he’s dead-set on not letting me do what I want to do with my life.

I want to follow in my old man’s footsteps. I want to be a firefighter. But he won’t even talk to me about it. He wants me to find a nice, safe job and then one day, he’s said when I’m thirty-five, find a nice man and settle down, raise a family.

I do want to be a mom someday and raise a family with a man I love and who loves me like my dad loved my mom. He completely lost himself after she died and it was humbling and also upsetting to see how much he loved her. He was barely able to function.

But that was a long time ago. I was only five when she died and barely remember her. Just her singing to me at night and dancing around the living room with me. Until she got sick.

Then it all changed. The house that seemed so happy and so full felt too big for the two of us.

But Dad worked his ass off to be both mother and father and I never lost hope that he’d find someone new. He just never had the heart for it.

“Mmmmph!” The mumbled growl has my head jerking up and whipping around, gritting my teeth when the room whirls around me.

“Holy shit! Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room?”

“Not your room,” the husky voice mutters and for some strange reason the hair on the back of my neck lifts. I feel like I should know that growl. It’s so damn familiar.

“What do you mean, it’s not my room? It most assuredly is.”

“No, it’s not. It’s mine. Look around for your stuff and you’ll see that I’m right.”

My head pounds and my tongue feels like I’m wearing a damn sweater on it. My vision fades in and out and I can’t see a foot in front of my face let alone around the room.

“There’s no way that I’m in your room,” I say stubbornly. If I fake it, I’m sure that I can get him to get the hell out. Right now I don’t even care whose room it is.

But he doesn’t cooperate.

“I’m in my damn room, lady.” He snorts. “If I can call you that.”

Pulling the covers over my head, I grunt. “You’re a jerk.”

“No. Normally I’m not. But I’ve got a blistering headache and my mouth feels like a fucking ashtray and now I’ve got a woman arguing with me in my room. As far as I can tell, this is a good damn time to get a little testy.”

“Humph! Well, I still say it’s my room.” But I pull the covers down and open my eyes fully, taking a wary look around the room, groaning to myself.

The first thing I see is a dark gray rolling suitcase sitting open on the floor. Mine is a gorgeous rose gold because that’s my thing. Popping my gaze around the room, I sigh and cover my face again.

“This can’t be happening. Did I actually go home with a perfect stranger last night?”

“Yeah, this isn’t my home, it’s my hotel room and judging by our current condition, I guess you did.”

“I don’t usually do stuff like this.”

“One would hope not. It’s actually really dangerous.”

“I know that,” I growl.

“I’m not sure if I should be honored or appalled that I’m so lucky.”

His tone has me jerking the sheets off my head and glaring at his huge form through my tangled hair. He’s turned away from me now and has the sheets pulled up over his body. But I can see his shoulder and it’s perfectly-rounded, muscular and tanned. Smooth and tempting. A tiny niggle of familiarity wars with the faint buzz of my clit.