PREVIEW
... k at the door was sharp, insistent—like the person on the other side wanted to break in rather than politely announce their presence. Nathan and I pulled away from each other, my lips still tingling, my pulse still hammering in my throat.
"Expecting room service?" I muttered, sliding off the bar. My legs felt unsteady, and not just from the vodka.
Nathan shot me a look that said shut up and stay behind me. He moved toward the door.
Another knock. Harder this time.
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