I stay there for a minute, following Cole’s orders, and then after the eerie quiet in the room sinks in to an uncomfortable degree, I put my shoes on, find my flashlight from the survival kit the resort provided, and head out into the hall, taking care to keep the door ajar so I don’t get locked out.

  Chaos has descended. Most everyone is standing in their doorway, holding a flashlight or their phone, trying to talk to their neighbors and figure out what’s going on. It’s a mixture of resort staff and guests, but no one has answers.

  “Why aren’t the generators working?”

  “We were told the hotel had generators!”

  I’m technically breaking my promise to Cole by leaving my room, but I can’t just leave that glass on the ground. There’s a housekeeping closet on every floor, and I’m relieved to find this one unlocked. There’s a vacuum inside that should get the job done. I wheel it back to the room, ignoring any and all questions as I go, only to realize—once I get back inside the room and go to plug in the vacuum—that it requires electricity. Duh-doy. I wheel it back to the closet and swap it for a broom and dustpan. It’ll make the job ten times more difficult, but at least it’s something.

  I’m actually glad for the task. I work slowly and meticulously, getting every last piece of the shattered light bulb thrown into the trash before I start to put the room back to rights. I didn’t realize how much heavy lifting I’d done before. By the time I’m finished and all the furniture is back where it belongs, I’m sweating.

  By now, the air feels stale and stagnant.

  I check my phone.

  There’s a text from Camila asking if I’m okay. I tell her everything’s fine before I ask for an update from their room. Are the four of them all stuffed in there sweating it out?

  CAMILA: It’s not great, but we’re just sitting around and talking. Lara’s telling ghost stories with a flashlight propped under her chin. Come join us. Where did you end up?

  I can’t tell her where I am.

  Cole’s room.

  She wouldn’t believe me.

  Ha ha, no, really. Where are you? she’d say.

  I don’t feel like getting into it tonight, so I just tell her I found a spare room, and then I let her know that I’m turning my phone off for a while. Since it’s the end of the day, my battery is nearly drained, and I don’t want to waste it for no good reason. Especially if I don’t know how long the power will be out.

  I send my parents a text, too, just in case they happen to read the news and find out what’s going on down here. I don’t want them to have to worry.

  Once my phone is turned off in my lap, I feel well and truly alone.

  It’s late. I could try to sleep, but I know that won’t be possible.

  I can no longer ignore the fact that it’s hot as hell in here. Cole’s attempt to ice me out earlier was in vain. I take off my socks and shoes and linger in my shorts for a while before dispensing with those too. Next to go is my bra. I don’t want a single layer on my body that’s not absolutely crucial. My T-shirt and underwear will have to be enough. Besides, I don’t think Cole will be coming back in here anytime soon.

  I hate that I can’t check in with him. Even if my phone were on, I don’t have his number. We’ve never exchanged them, which feels both appropriate and odd, given the circumstances. Sure, in the last year, I’ve spent more time with Cole than anyone else, but if he’d ever asked me to give him my phone number, I would have laughed in his face, and vice versa. Twenty-four-seven access to each other? Endless mayhem? Absolutely not.

  I wish he’d just come back up to the room and give me a quick update, but of course, that’s not at the top of his priorities right now. There’s no telling what he’s doing. If I know him, he’s out in the downpour, assessing the generators himself.

  I’m left up here to my own devices, and I’m bored. Also, a little worried.

  This is embarrassing, and I would never admit it, not even under duress, but to help ease my suffering, I slide off the bed. First, I mosey down the side of it, running my finger along the sheet like I have no plan at all. I just want to see if there’s an end of the bed, and yup, it’s there. I’m putting on a show for cameras that don’t exist. It’s my way of making it seem like an accident that I’ve somehow ended up at the dresser. My hands move on their own. They open the top drawer—weird!—and pull out Cole’s T-shirt, the soft one I picked up earlier. Then the T-shirt quite literally falls onto my face. Oh my god, so annoying! I have no choice but to press it there and inhale. Cole’s scent is a morphine drip. I take the T-shirt back to the bed and hug it like a lovey.

  If he comes in at this precise moment, I’ll eat it. Anything to get rid of the evidence of how low I’ve stooped.

  I lie there, listening to rain pelt the window, hot, annoyed, agitated. For so long, my thoughts whirl around and around on the same topic. Why would Cole try to protect me from Todd? Why does he care that much? Then at some point I fall asleep because I’m awoken a while later when the hotel room door closes with a heavy thud.

  “Paige?”

  I lift my head off the pillow and reply with a groggy, croaky, indecipherable “Yeah?”

  Cole releases a steady exhale and walks deeper into the room. He still has his flashlight on, so I can see him there, sopping wet. His shoes squelch against the carpet before he toes them off. Then he sets the flashlight on the dresser and starts to unbutton his shirt. This is a dream. Either that or I’ve found myself in some weird, topsy-turvy world where it’s normal for Cole to undress in front of me.

  “How are the generators?” I ask as a way to remind him that I’m still here. He knows he’s taking off his pants while I watch, right?

  Should I avert my gaze?

  Fat chance.

  If I tried to close my eyes right now, they’d pry themselves open. You’re not ruining this moment for us, girl.

  He starts answering my question, something about how one of the backup generators did kick on. “The one that covers the kitchens, restaurants, and gym. That area of the resort has had power this whole time . . .”

  I’m listening, but I’m also thinking, Hello, Cole’s abs.

  Hello, Cole’s boxer briefs.

  Hello, Cole’s noticeable bulge.

  “. . . it’s only this portion of the hotel that’s been without power. The engineers are working on the issue . . .”

  His voice fades out again as he turns toward the dresser and tugs open the top drawer.

  His back is so sexy, broad, and muscular. I like the slope that extends from his neck to his shoulders, the defined taper down to his waist. I like that he’s seemingly tan everywhere. Well . . . everywhere I can see.

  I ogle his butt like it’s my god-given right.

  “They’ve assured us it’ll be up and running again by morning.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “A little after two a.m.”

  Then he turns slowly, giving me a dubious look.

  “Where’s my shirt? The one you had earlier?”

  Oh, the shirt I’m cradling to my chest like a newborn baby?

  “I was cold,” I say, sitting up to hand it to him. “Brr.”

  He’s not buying it.

  “What did you do to it?” he asks as he leans over the bed to take it like he’s worried I’ll revoke the offer.

  “Nothing. I thought it was mine. I have one that’s really similar.”

  He stands there, silently interrogating me.

  “I was feeling weird, okay?! It’s been a weird day!”

  His head tips gently to the side. “So you were hugging my shirt for comfort?”

  “I was hugging your shirt for reasons I’m not willing to share.”

  He’s too tired to deal with me. He takes the shirt and a new pair of boxer briefs into the bathroom with his flashlight, and then the water cuts on in the shower. And would you look at that? I’m depraved. Almost immediately, all sorts of X-rated images spring to mind. Cole discarding his last bit of clothing and stepping under the shower stream. Cole, lit by candlelight—(Shut up. It’s my fantasy and I’d rather it be a candle than a flashlight. Sue me)—as he sudses himself up with shower gel, running his hands all over his body. He doesn’t forget his biceps, his forearms, his chest and abs. He gets every single inch of himself. It’s in his DNA, after all. He’s so very thorough.

  When the water turns off, I scurry onto my side of the bed and roll to face the window. I listen as he dries off with the towel. My imaginings are no less tame now than they were before, so that when he walks out of the bathroom once he’s finished getting ready for bed, my cheeks go bright red as if I have a thought bubble hovering over me, televising every naughty detail.

  My eyes are shut like I’m trying to convince him I’m asleep, which is frankly absurd. Cole and I are sharing a bed; it’s not like I’m going to just conk out as if it’s a regular occurrence.

  I feel his weight on his side, the bed dipping down as he lies back and fluffs his pillow.

  His flashlight clicks off, and we’re back in total darkness.

  I’M IN BED WITH COLE CLARK.

  And he smells lovely from the shower, all clean and fresh.

  I wish I could see him. I wish I could take him in from head to toe. Did he get all the water off with his towel, or is some sluicing down his abs? I could lick it off . . .

  GO TO SLEEP.

  Go to sleep!

  Go. To. Sleep.

  I can’t, though. Cole shifts, and I think he’s turned on his side toward me.

  I’m shaking like a leaf.

  I don’t even have the benefit of blankets to hide beneath. It’s too hot for that.

  I’m still wearing my T-shirt and panties. Panties. Ugh, metaphorical facepalm. I didn’t even realize that he saw me like this earlier. I was too preoccupied with him. Oh well, it’s too late now. Besides, he’s seen me in far less and I’ve lived.

  Something warm and soft gets draped over my arm. Not a blanket . . . a T-shirt. His T-shirt from earlier. He’s giving it back to me.

  My nose stings like I might cry.

  I tug it off my arm so I can clutch it against my chest. Then I wait for him to say something more, to tease me about it in a harsh way that will make me want to throw the T-shirt across the room and be done with it. But he stays silent, and it’s louder than anything he could have said, any truth he might have revealed. I remember the conversation we had before the lightning strike, and into the dark hotel room, I let him know, “I believe you about Todd. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you before.”

  Then I turn to face him. I can’t see him; it’s too dark.

  I can’t hear him breathing either. The storm is still going outside, a relentless downpour. Thunder rumbles right over us. Is he sleeping? I worry. Am I alone in this?

  Then his hand reaches out to close the gap between us. His warm palm finds my biceps, then my forearm—and eventually his hand slides down until it takes mine. He drags my hand to the center of the bed, where he laces our fingers together, and he squeezes. His grip is so large. I’ve known that. I’ve felt it before, but somehow, right now, with nothing else to focus on, I’m memorizing its weight, the smooth skin versus the rough calluses, the long fingers . . .

  We could scoot together and touch, kiss, all of it. I can practically feel the charge in the air; a cascade of goose bumps tingles up my legs and arms. The moment hangs in suspension, but I’m too shy to scoot closer and, maybe, so is he. Still, as he keeps ahold of my hand, I can feel this tight thing unfurling in my chest. It’s not an epiphany; it feels more like coming into consciousness, holding a mirror up to something that’s been there the whole time. There is no way around it, it seems.

  I want Cole.

  Chapter Nineteen

  PAIGE

  Awareness trickles in slowly the next morning. I make note of the soft pillow beneath my cheek. The sleepy heaviness still clinging to my limbs. It’s relatively quiet now that the rain has stopped. The sun filtering through the window is what must have woken me up. We never did close the drapes last night; there was no need. Cole is still in bed. I know because he has me squeezed up against his chest the same way I was clutching his T-shirt last night. I’m his teddy bear.

  His arm is a tight band around my waist. It’s like I’m locked into a roller coaster, not going anywhere.

  And then . . .

  Then I realize that Cole’s hand is flat against my stomach, the edge of his pinky finger innocently dipped beneath the waistband of my panties. My butt fits into the groove of his hips, and though I try not to notice, it’s impossible not to feel how hard he is. I mean, he is absolutely rigid against my butt.

  Long and thick.

  Realizing this, I bite my lip and turn to press my face into my pillow because I’m so inappropriate! I should be hauled off to jail!

  Stop thinking about it!

  Cole’s hand shifts and slides up. Ugh, I love the way it feels on my bare stomach just before he pulls it away and rolls onto his back.

  He makes a noise, a morning groan that makes me feel like an absolute perv because even that’s somehow sexy.

  I gain just enough courage to peer over my shoulder to see him dig the heels of his hands into his eyes as he blinks away the last vestiges of sleep. After, he tilts his head to look at me.

  Our eyes lock, then I betray us both by looking down.

  He only then realizes the problem at hand.

  The very big problem.

  Another groan, and then he sits up.

  He doesn’t bother making an excuse about how it happens to all guys and that it doesn’t mean anything. He’s not even embarrassed, and why should he be?

  If I were a dude and I was packing heat like that in my pants, good luck trying to force me into clothing. I’d be walking around nude from the waist down.

  Cole, meanwhile, absolutely never let on this whole time!

  The sneaky bastard.

  “How did you sleep?” he asks.

  “Oh . . . good.”

  A sudden urge to stretch washes over me, and I don’t resist. I’m a lazy cat reaching my hands up toward the headboard, flexing and then curling my toes. It feels so good. Cole watches me while I do it, like I’m putting on a show for him. I mean . . . I wasn’t, not technically. But I like the way it feels when his eyes are on me, hooded and dark.

  “You?”

  “Fine,” he says brusquely. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Another so soon?”

  He shoots me a glare, and I know, I just know, what he’s going to do in there.

  Tsk tsk tsk.

  “Be quick, will you? I’d love one myself.”

  I’m surprised he doesn’t shoot me the bird as he walks away.

  I laugh as I push up to sit. I’d love to check the time, but the clock on the nightstand is blinking red. Blinking! That means there’s power again! I reach for the TV and turn it on. Then I power up my phone and plug it in.

  There are a million texts from my parents.

  Call us as soon as you get this!

  Are you okay?

  News doesn’t look good! Please answer your phone, Paige!

  Guilt gnaws on me as I immediately dial their number.

  “Paige!” my mom exclaims. “Thank god. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Mom. Totally. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you guys like that. I had to turn my phone off last night because we lost power and I didn’t have much battery. I didn’t want to drain it, but the power seems to be back on now and I’m charging it up.”

  “Good. How was the storm?”

  “I don’t actually know. I just woke up and checked my phone. I haven’t even looked outside.”

  I do it now, carrying my phone to the window, or at least as far as I can get to the window while my phone’s plugged into the charger.

  It appears to be a good news, bad news situation.

  Good news is there’s power.

  Bad news is there’s some serious flooding outside. I’m not sure of the extent, but the grounds are definitely underwater. It could be a few inches or a few feet. It’s hard to tell from this vantage point. Debris is scattered too. Palm tree leaves, tree limbs, trash. I relay all this to my mom.

  “There doesn’t seem to be damage to any buildings, though,” I continue, “but I can’t see much from my hotel room.”

  “So they pulled you into the resort? Smart. I was worried you’d be out in your dorm.”

  “Nope. They thought ahead.”

  Cole thought ahead, probably.

  Speaking of, the water in the shower isn’t on anymore. He must have finished up there fast, knowing I needed to rinse off after him.

  “Let me get going, Mom. I’m sure it’ll be a busy day. I’ll try you again this afternoon.”

  “Okay, keep me posted. I’m so glad it wasn’t worse.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Cole comes out of the bathroom in a towel and nods to let me know I’m up.

  Never mind that there’s only a scrap of terry cloth covering his groin. I’m just supposed to mosey on past him and go shower without any fuss. Fine.

  But I take my clothes with me.

  In the bathroom, I take my time rinsing off because the water pressure is way better in here than it is out in my dorm, and I got pretty sticky with sweat last night. I wash my hair and do an all-out shave, not just the shins and lower part of my legs. I steal as much hotel product as I can manage, really going to town with the body wash and lotion. By the time I’m done and I’ve dried my hair (taking full advantage of this newfangled thing called electricity), Cole’s gone down to retrieve me a coffee and some breakfast.

  He leans against the dresser, sipping his coffee.

  “Food?” I ask, hopeful, glancing over at the Styrofoam container on the table.

  “Warm food.”

  I almost groan.

  Apparently, the kitchen crews from various restaurants are working together to feed all the guests and staff. Resort guests have a limited breakfast buffet option. Meanwhile, staff get a set menu consisting of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

  “Thank you,” I say, reveling in the sweet, sweet taste of coffee. I don’t even care that it’s not a specialty latte. Today, I’m happy with the black sludge.