Hooked #3 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 3) by Claire Adams Read Free Book Online

activity erupt beneath me. The kitchen was making its grand
many-course breakfast feast.
    I paced around the room, waiting. I had no idea
where Drew was. I wondered if he was upset that I hadn’t slept with him the
evening before, if I had ruined everything. I wondered if he was going to
simply take me home and never speak to me again. I wondered if this breakfast
would be my last bit of finery for the rest of my life. My heart beat loudly in
my chest. I felt like a strange alien. I felt so very alone.
    About twenty minutes later, the hotel elevator
opened, revealing a whole host of hotel workers, all holding grand trays filled
with breakfast items. They displayed them on the counter and the large dining
room table. They poured two mimosas for us both, and then bowed to me as they
exited. When the elevator door closed, it was as if they had
never been in the hotel room, as if the food had simply appeared .
    I removed the lids from the food, finding the
cheese-y eggs, fried potatoes, fruit, and beautiful French pastries. My stomach
growled and I reached toward one—one that was oozing with crème and frosting.
    Suddenly, the elevator door burst open once more. My
hand on the pastry, I looked up in alarm to see Drew marching toward me. Sweat
was glistening on his body and his face. He was holding a water bottle, and he
was wearing exercise clothes. “Morning,” he said cheerfully. “So glad you
ordered breakfast. I was just working out and I’m famished.”
    My eyes were wide. I took my hand from the pastry
and tried to smile naturally. “Oh. Gosh. Hello,” I murmured. “So
good to see you.” I felt awkward, formal.
    But Drew sat down and began filling a plate with the
food. I sat on the other side of the table, my mimosa in hand. “What did you
do?”
    “Oh, you know. Just a bit of
running. A bit of swimming. I can’t go a day without
exercise, especially when I eat like this.” He winked at me, taking a large bite
of pastry.
    I had thought he was gone; I had thought he had
disappeared. But here he was before me, eating heartily, gazing at me like a
friend would. Like a friend should. I shivered, feeling the unfortunate
understanding that this man before me was very nearly perfect.
    I shook it off. “So. What
are we doing tonight?”
    “Now. Didn’t I tell you that was going to be a surprise? Why
don’t you eat up? You ordered enough food to feed eight people.” He handed me
the pastry I had nearly grabbed in the moments when he was walking through the
door. “Come on. Eat up.”
    And I did.

 
    That evening I draped the red dress over my body and
prepared my hair and make-up. I watched as, on the other side of the room, Drew
rustled himself into his tuxedo and his bow tie. He combed at his hair,
creating that subtle side-part of the previous week. Something inside me stirred;
I wanted him so badly. But I couldn’t allow it to happen; I shouldn’t.  
    I turned toward him, allowing my breasts to bounce
in the dress. I could play with him, couldn’t I? Even if I
didn’t allow anything to happen? “You look handsome,” I murmured.
    “And you look beautiful.” He walked toward me,
bringing his arm out to me. “Shall I escort you to the Porsche?”
    “Why, darling. I’d love to go,” I whispered, laughing at the sudden false sophistication. He
had a humor about him—something I loved in anyone. If he couldn’t laugh about
this grandeur, about his high style of living, then I didn’t want anything to
do with him. Perhaps this was part of the reason I was here.
    We walked into the elevator. I gazed at the
remarkable hotel beneath us as we rushed to the ground floor. Leon, the valet,
had brought the car out front for us and stood, dangling the keys for Drew,
until we brushed past, excitement brimming in our bones. I hadn’t a clue where
we were going, and Drew seemed so adamant on a surprise.
    We hopped into the Porsche and fled into the country
roads, dust and sand rollicking all around us. Drew