Page 17 of Not Safe for Work

“Ladies first,” he says, his previous glower replaced with a smirk that would make Satan look like a cinnamon roll. I know he’s saying it just to piss me off.

Refusing to give him the satisfaction, I sidle past and turn around, not looking his way. He saunters inside, presses the button, and we silently ride up. The doors open again, and I hold out my hand.

“My key.”

He places the small cardboard rectangle in my hand, his fingers brushing mine as a jolt of electricity zings straight to my navel. Ignoring it, I step off the elevator and march down the hall, swiping the key against the electronic pad and throwing open the door.

Despite everything, I can barely contain my awe.

The vast space is covered in white tile, punctuated with pale blue, turquoise, and hot pink accents. Straight ahead is an entire row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bright blue sea.

Kalena said it was the best view in the hotel, and my anger with Belinda and her inability to make even the most basic travel plans shifts down a notch.

As I pass through the suite, a kitchen with gleaming white cabinets and countertops sits to my right. A nest of sleek white sofas is angled to look out the windows, where a large, curved balcony supports a hot tub and two loungers. There’s also a large glass dining table surrounded by fabric-covered chairs, along with a desk in the corner.

Rafe lets out a low whistle, and though I agree this is a whistle-worthy room, the sound lodges into the middle of my back.

“I cannot believe this,” I say, dragging my suitcases farther into the suite.

After leaving them standing in the middle of the room to go exploring, I find two massive bathrooms—one with a huge walk-in shower with multiple heads and another with a deep, large soaker tub.

I enter a room with the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. Pushed up against the far wall, it’s covered in crisp white sheets and blue and pink pillows, the headboard carved of deep mahogany wood. More windows look out to the sea, and a glass door exits to the other end of the balcony.

I do another circle of the suite, frowning. Something isn’t adding up.

Rafe’s head is in the refrigerator, stocked with wine, beer, and a mountain of snacks. He pulls out a bottle of lager with a hipster label and pops off the top.

“This could be worse,” he says, taking a deep gulp. I turn away, distracted by the bob of his Adam’s apple and the bit of stubble covering his jaw.

“Do you notice something?” I spin back to look at him, hands planted on my hips.

“What?” He lowers the bottle and looks around.

“There’s only one bed.”

“That can’t be possible. This suite is huge.”

“Well, unless it’s hidden in a secret dimension, I only find one bedroom and one bed.”

He gives me a skeptical look before he proceeds through the suite. I stand in the kitchen, tapping my foot as I wait for him to discover what I’ve already discovered. A moment later, he pops back into the main room.

“You’re right.”

“Did you think I was hard of counting bedrooms?”

He ignores my comment. “How can a suite this size have only one bedroom?”

It’s then I notice a glossy brochure sitting on the kitchen counter, proudly welcoming us to the Orchid Honeymoon Suite.

Rafe is reading over my shoulder as I let out a groan.

“I. Will. Kill. Belinda,” I snarl, crumpling the brochure between my hands and grinding my teeth. “I will slash her tires. I’ll…”

“Put laxative in her coffee,” Rafe adds.

I look at him, startled by the support.

He seems equally horrified, but that might be because it’s the first time we’ve ever agreed on anything.