I slip under the covers, the weight of the day finally giving in to exhaustion. California has cute boys, and maybe—just maybe—they can fuck my feelings out. The thought is oddly comforting as I drift off to sleep, and for a brief moment, I'm free from the storm swirling around Ace and me.
When morning rolls in, sunlight streams through the hotel curtains, nudging me awake. I groan, squinting against the brightness, and roll out of bed. My brain is still half-asleep as I quickly brush my teeth, the minty freshness a sharp contrast to the chaos of last night. I pull on a tank top and shorts, ready to face the day and the fact that we have five more days in California, three of which are dedicated to executing what I hope will turn out to be the perfect plan.
I head to the bathroom, moving with purpose, hoping to shake off the remnants of awkward tension. I splash water on my face, breathing deeply, trying to clear my head. Just as I'm about to step out, the bathroom door swings open, and Ace walks in, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. My heart does this weird little flip that I can't quite ignore.
He starts brushing his teeth, completely unfazed, and I can't help but steal glances in the mirror. Our eyes meet a few times, each time igniting a spark of irritation in me. Why does he have to look so damn good? The way the towel clings to his waist, the way his hair is tousled, the way he pretends everything is fine while I'm standing here feeling like a volcano ready to erupt—it's infuriating.
This is what I wanted, right? I wanted him to act normal, to pretend like everything is fine, like we can just go back to being friends and leave the heavy stuff behind. But the more he acts like nothing's wrong, the more it pisses me off. I can't help but feel trapped between wanting to yell at him and wanting to lean in close and breathe in his scent. I focus on my reflection, trying to ignore the heat pooling in my cheeks.
As I turn to leave, Ace suddenly grabs my wrist, pulling me backward. I stumble slightly, trying to regain my balance, but the first thing I touch is his bare chest. Smooth. Muscular. Warm. My breath catches in my throat, and I yank my hand away as if I've just touched a hot stove.
"Whoa, sorry!" he says, his eyes widening, but there's a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth that makes my stomach twist. I can feel my cheeks heat up, betraying me. Why does he have to be so infuriatingly attractive?
"Uh, yeah, fine," I stammer, trying to sound nonchalant, but the way he's looking at me makes it hard to think straight. I can feel the tension crackling in the air between us, and for a moment, it's like the world has shrunk down to just the two of us, standing in this tiny hotel bathroom.
"Are you, uh, heading out?" Ace asks, trying to play it cool, but I can hear the curiosity lacing his voice.
"Yeah, I'm just grabbing breakfast," I reply, trying to sound casual while internally freaking out about the way my heart is racing. "You know, fuel for our perfect plan."
"Right," he says, his gaze flickering to the ground for a moment before meeting my eyes again in the mirror. "Want me to come with you?"
I open my mouth to say no, but instead, I feel a strange flutter of something in my chest—maybe a little bit of hope or annoyance or both. "I can handle it," I reply, crossing my arms defensively.
"Okay, just thought—"
"Yeah, well, you thought wrong." I turn sharply, stepping out of the bathroom, needing to put some space between us before I lose my mind.
"Adriana—" he starts, but I don't look back. I can't. I can't deal with whatever this is right now. I stomp down the hallway, the morning sun streaming in through the windows, feeling both exhilarated and frustrated all at once. What the hell is wrong with us?
YOU ARE READING
Undercover Love
RomanceBook #2 of the Undercover Series - Adriana has one rule: if he doesn't want you, you don't want him. But when she's forced to work with Ace, again, that rule becomes impossible to follow. They have to team up to take down a dangerous new threat-a m...
