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“Oh my God…did we…?” I press the sheet to me again, gripping it so tightly, my knuckles turn white.
“You don’t remember? It was amazing. The earth moved. And you—you were loud enough that we probably cleared out the entire resort.” He grins at me, then rolls off the bed and starts across the room, giving me a view of his muscly back and behind. Those are some seriously tight shorts.
No, Libby! Do not focus on his taut buttocks! You are not that kind of girl. “I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t remember any of it.”
“None of it?” he asks.
When I shake my head, he says, “That’s a real crime because it was the best night you’ve ever had. You told me as much right after round three.” Opening the mini-fridge, he grabs a bottle of water and takes off the lid. “At least I have it all on video.”
“What?!” My pulse speeds up, and I suddenly feel both hot and dizzy. What have I turned into? Some kind of hussy? Or worse—my mother?
“I didn’t think it was a good idea, but you were pretty insistent.” He shrugs, then crosses the room and holds the bottle of water out to me.
I take it cautiously, then shrink back from him a bit. Why would a man this hot do whatever predictable, boring old Libby Dewitt said to do?
In an instant, it all makes perfect sense. My heart sinks and I let out a loud groan. “You’re a gigolo, aren’t you?”
“Listen, I don’t know what I told you last night, but I can’t afford to pay you. I’m a little low on cash at the—”
“I’m not a gigolo.”
“Then why would you…?” I don’t really know how to put this. Why would someone as hot as you sleep with a very plain Jane like me?
“Why would I what?” He folds his arms across his broad chest.
My words come out rushed. “Sleep with someone like me.”
“Are you kidding right now?” he asks, raising one eyebrow.
“No, I’m afraid not.” I shake my head, then wince because my brain is pounding and because I really don’t want to hear his answer. I’ve had enough rejection for one weekend. Before he can say anything, I take a wild stab at it. “Now I get it, you’re one of those guys with extremely low standards. The type who’ll sleep with anything with a pulse.” I gasp again. “Oh my God. I probably have an STD by now, don’t I?”
“Ouch,” he says, rubbing at his chest. “You’re pretty mean when you’re sober.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to insult you. I’m honestly just very confused.” I sigh and close my eyes for a second, unable to stand the look of hurt in his strikingly brilliant hazel eyes. “Maybe it would be best if you just left. I’m really not myself at the moment.”
“Okay, but it might make more sense if you left.”
“Why?” I ask, opening my eyes again.
“This is my room.”