grins and takes my arm as he steers us through the front doors of the hotel, past the lobby, and past the bar; “We aren't going to the bar , we’re going upstairs.”
I balk at him “Uh, excuse me?”
He rolls his eyes; “Quinn, get over yourself. We’re going all the way upstairs.” He nods to the front desk guy who seems to know him, and Logan palms the guy a fat wad of bills before steering me towards the elevators.
“ OK , so where are we-“
“Quinn.”
“What?” I snap.
“Do me a favor.”
“Wha-”
“Stop talking for like, one whole minute, OK?”
I open my mouth to say something back, but instead I snap it shut and shake my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction as the elevator moves up. The doors open and we’re up on the roof-top lounge area, complete with a pool and a bar and an utterly insane view of Manhattan. It’s also completely deserted.
“Did you plan this or something?” I say, frowning at him.
“What, paying off the night manager so that I could come up to the pool bar alone and drink scotch after my fight?’
I look at him expectantly.
“Uh, yeah , Quinn, I did.”
I’m laughing in spite of myself, watching his face crack into a smile as I do so.
“What, you think, that I did all this for you or something?” He grins; “I’m not telepathic, you know. It’s not like I knew you were going to follow me around like a stalker tonight.” I try to hide my grin, knowing he’s right, and he laughs; “You’re a welcomed addition though.”
He reaches over the empty bar and grabs two glasses before we walk over to the pool’s edge. He’s kicking his shoes off, and I start to follow suit before I realize he’s pulling his t-shirt up over his washboard abs and over his head.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
He tosses his shirt aside; “Uh, swimming , darlin. It’s a pool, thats what you do in them.”
“Cute.”
“Oh, you’re coming in too, you know.”
I raise an eyebrow at him as he starts to unbuckle his belt; “Yeah I don’t think so.”
“Nope, you have to,” He shrugs nonchalantly, which is hard to pull off when his face looks like the cat that just caught the canary; “Post-victory tradition; jump in the damn pool.”
“I don’t have a suit.” It’s a lame excuse, since he clearly didn’t bring one either.
“Neither do I.” He’s stripping his jeans off, and I’m blushing but not really trying to look away as he stands there in tight, grey boxer-briefs that cling to every inch of him; and I do mean every inch. It’s almost not even fair. I mean the guy’s a billionaire already; does he have to look like some kind of Greek warrior too? He tosses his pants onto a lounge chair and looks at me expectantly, standing there with that incredible body, with his insanely ripped abs and those twin grooves of his hips leading down…
Ooooo-kay. Yeah, I am definitely not getting in a pool with Logan Dempsey looking like that .
“Archer, you’ve got about 10 seconds to start stripping before I toss you in just like that.”
We lock eyes, and I know he’s crazy enough to be serious. He’s also not going to get this one over on me, and so instead I just shrug and start unbuttoning my shorts. He smirks, looking pleased with himself.
“You didn’t think I would, huh?”
“No, not really actually.”
“Shows what you know then.” I’m hoping my voice comes off as flippant and confident instead of the bundle of nerves I feel like inside. I’m pushing all the thoughts out of my head though of how crazy it is that I’m pulling my t-shirt up over my head and letting him see me in my black bra and panties. I’m actually relieved for a second that I actually managed to wear a matching pair, though I’m kind of wishing I wasn’t wearing a damn thong.
Whatever , I think; It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before.
Yeah, not really a comforting thought, actually.
But a minute later, we’re
I balk at him “Uh, excuse me?”
He rolls his eyes; “Quinn, get over yourself. We’re going all the way upstairs.” He nods to the front desk guy who seems to know him, and Logan palms the guy a fat wad of bills before steering me towards the elevators.
“ OK , so where are we-“
“Quinn.”
“What?” I snap.
“Do me a favor.”
“Wha-”
“Stop talking for like, one whole minute, OK?”
I open my mouth to say something back, but instead I snap it shut and shake my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction as the elevator moves up. The doors open and we’re up on the roof-top lounge area, complete with a pool and a bar and an utterly insane view of Manhattan. It’s also completely deserted.
“Did you plan this or something?” I say, frowning at him.
“What, paying off the night manager so that I could come up to the pool bar alone and drink scotch after my fight?’
I look at him expectantly.
“Uh, yeah , Quinn, I did.”
I’m laughing in spite of myself, watching his face crack into a smile as I do so.
“What, you think, that I did all this for you or something?” He grins; “I’m not telepathic, you know. It’s not like I knew you were going to follow me around like a stalker tonight.” I try to hide my grin, knowing he’s right, and he laughs; “You’re a welcomed addition though.”
He reaches over the empty bar and grabs two glasses before we walk over to the pool’s edge. He’s kicking his shoes off, and I start to follow suit before I realize he’s pulling his t-shirt up over his washboard abs and over his head.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
He tosses his shirt aside; “Uh, swimming , darlin. It’s a pool, thats what you do in them.”
“Cute.”
“Oh, you’re coming in too, you know.”
I raise an eyebrow at him as he starts to unbuckle his belt; “Yeah I don’t think so.”
“Nope, you have to,” He shrugs nonchalantly, which is hard to pull off when his face looks like the cat that just caught the canary; “Post-victory tradition; jump in the damn pool.”
“I don’t have a suit.” It’s a lame excuse, since he clearly didn’t bring one either.
“Neither do I.” He’s stripping his jeans off, and I’m blushing but not really trying to look away as he stands there in tight, grey boxer-briefs that cling to every inch of him; and I do mean every inch. It’s almost not even fair. I mean the guy’s a billionaire already; does he have to look like some kind of Greek warrior too? He tosses his pants onto a lounge chair and looks at me expectantly, standing there with that incredible body, with his insanely ripped abs and those twin grooves of his hips leading down…
Ooooo-kay. Yeah, I am definitely not getting in a pool with Logan Dempsey looking like that .
“Archer, you’ve got about 10 seconds to start stripping before I toss you in just like that.”
We lock eyes, and I know he’s crazy enough to be serious. He’s also not going to get this one over on me, and so instead I just shrug and start unbuttoning my shorts. He smirks, looking pleased with himself.
“You didn’t think I would, huh?”
“No, not really actually.”
“Shows what you know then.” I’m hoping my voice comes off as flippant and confident instead of the bundle of nerves I feel like inside. I’m pushing all the thoughts out of my head though of how crazy it is that I’m pulling my t-shirt up over my head and letting him see me in my black bra and panties. I’m actually relieved for a second that I actually managed to wear a matching pair, though I’m kind of wishing I wasn’t wearing a damn thong.
Whatever , I think; It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before.
Yeah, not really a comforting thought, actually.
But a minute later, we’re
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