Free Seven Days by Josie Leigh Page A

any paranormal activity that may occur in our room. Afterward, we’d made a quick stop in the restaurant for take-out and the truck for our bags. I wasn’t feeling particularly social at the moment, though, as I tried to digest everything we’d just seen while I nibbled on the delicious sandwich I’d ordered.
    “What do you mean?” I gave him a puzzled look as he moved to prop open the balcony door again. The humidity from the rain and a subpar air conditioner had combined to create a stifling atmosphere when we returned to the room. The ceiling fan had helped a little, but I had a feeling the rain fresh air would help with the rest. However, just to be sure, I’d changed into a pair of sleep shorts and a fresh tank top.
    “Was he murdered or was it an accident?” he clarified, grabbing his own Styrofoam box of food and sitting across from me on the bed. “Suicide?”
    “I wasn’t there. How would I know?” I shrugged, picking at my dinner. After the day we’d had, I was starving, but I was also exhausted. I knew that if I stuffed myself, haunted room or not, there was no way I could stay awake. “They said the check showed the elevator was working properly. I must say the permanent chalk outline of his decapitated body was a little disconcerting though,” I relayed, shooting him a look of mock disgusts as I theatrically shuddered.
    “You have to admit, they do a good job making the place seem like it exists on a completely separate astral plane,” he half-shrugged as he dug into his food.
    “True,” I agreed, staring out the balcony doors into the darkness. Lights dotted the city at the bottom of the hill and laughter filtered up from below, but otherwise, all was silent. The day started to catch up with me as we continued our meal and my muscles ached. Rolling my shoulders back, I tried to relieve the pain.
    “Hey,” Ryan put his hand on my shoulder, closing up the nearly empty box in front of him and stacking it on top of mine. “Let me help you,” he offered, leaving my side for a moment to clear the bed of our food. “Lay down,” he told me, gesturing to the center of our bed.
    “You don’t have to—” I put my palms out defensively.
    “I know I don’t have to,” he cut off my protest. “But you have to be sore from all the hiking and climbing we did today.”
    “Yeah, but I’m sure I’m not the only one,” I grumbled. “I’m sure you are hurting, too.”
    “Yes, that’s true,” he smirked, helping me spread out on my stomach. “But, I see this as a trade off,” he said, leaving the bed and heading toward the bathroom. After a moment he returned with complementary lotion in hand. “It’s not lavender, but it’ll do,” he frowned when he saw me looking at the container. “Anyway, when I’m done loosening up all those muscles, then it’s your turn to help me do the same.”
    “I can agree to that, but hands in all the appropriate places, buddy,” I wagged my finger at him and dropped my torso to the mattress that felt like it was made out of a freaking cloud. Shit. I wasn’t going to make it.
    “I never agreed to that,” he shook his head. “But I suppose I can concede to that requirement, if you promise not to limit your massage to those same places,” he finished, his voice turning husky as he straddled my hips and pushed up the back of my tank top. I knew he had to be taking in the expanse of my bare skin visible to him now when he didn’t, immediately start his massage and I felt him harden against the small of my back.
    “I can’t make that promise,” I replied when cold, unscented lotion hit the spot between my shoulder blades that ached the most. “Above the waist and below the ass only,” I mumbled as his warm hands went to work. Between the cloud below me and the heavenly hands working out every single knot in my back, I struggled to keep my eyes open. Add to that, the warmth of the room, and I didn’t have a chance. I just hoped he wouldn’t be too