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“I was trying to get inside before anyone saw me.” His gaze is heavy with suspicion as he looks me over, eyes flicking briefly to the unmade bed before returning their attention to my face. “Do you have any idea how conspicuous I looked banging on the door for five minutes straight before I figured out you weren’t in the room. Where the hell have you been, anyway?”
“I got locked out of the room.”
His eyes narrow. “How did you get locked out when you weren’t supposed to leave?”
“There isn’t any food here. The girls you usually hang out with might favor starvation diets, but I can’t survive on pillow stuffing.”
My belly takes that moment to growl loudly, further punctuating my point.
Drake’s expression turns sardonic, though the smallest smile twists his lips. “I dropped you off here this morning. You’ll have to forgive me for thinking you could skip a meal without dying.”
Had it only been a single meal? I think back and realize that I did get breakfast before being discharged from the hospital.
“Just keep that in mind for next time.” Moving past him, I turn the deadbolt before returning to the bed and sitting down. Better safe than sorry. “The next time you hide me out in a derelict motel room, you need to make sure the mini fridge is full.”
Drake doesn’t seem to get the joke that this is not the sort of place that has a mini fridge. He looks at the lock on the door before his probing gaze returns to my face. “Did something happen?”
I wave his obvious concern away, even though the sharpest edge of my unease hasn’t faded. “The desk clerk might be a rapist, other than that no worries.”
“What the fuck?”
I give him the short version of what happened in the lobby and the clerk’s offer to join me later tonight.
“It’s not a big deal,” I assure him, with more confidence than I actually feel. “As long as the deadbolt stays on the door, no one will be able to get inside the room.”
But Drake doesn’t look convinced. A red flush suffuses his neck, moving to his cheeks like he’s a kettle of water that is about to boil over. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
I don’t think he’s serious until Drake turns on his heel and strides toward the door. He already has his hand on the deadbolt by the time I get across the room and pull him back. “Are you crazy?”
Drake freezes in place. His hand slowly falls away from the still locked deadbolt as he turns back to face me.
I have a second to catch the feral look on his face before he closes the small distance between us and grabs my upper arms in an iron grip.
We stare at each other for a long moment, the only sound in the room our heavy breathing.
My tongue comes out to touch my bottom lip, the movement nervous. His gaze moves to my mouth and something in him seems to break.
His lips crash down on mine with surprising ferocity, as if all the anger he feels has been transmuted into a different sort of passion. The grip on my arms doesn’t slacken as he yanks me against his body.
When my mouth opens in a surprised gasp, Drake takes full advantage. His tongue tangles with mine in a grappling dance.
The kiss shocks me more than it should. On some level, I’d already known that this would be the inevitable outcome if I agreed to stay here. Maybe I had myself convinced that our almost kiss before was an aberration, a moment of weakness. But now I know the truth.
We are inevitable.
Even if it destroys us.
My lips part on a moan as his tongue plunders my mouth. The taste of him overwhelms my senses, something like dark espresso and the sweet hint of chocolate. That stroke of his tongue is anything but hesitant, but it asks a question.
A question that only has one possible answer.
My hands raise, and he tenses in obvious anticipation of me pushing him away. I intend to do just that, but only end up clutching at the fabric of his shirt hard enough that my fingernails dig into my palms.
Drake softens the kiss, his lips suddenly more teasing as they move against mine than devouring. His arms wrap around my back and then move lower, pressing me harder against him. He overwhelms my senses, surrounding me with his presence until I can’t think past how good it feels to have his hands on my body.
He still has control of my arms, but that doesn’t stop my hips from pressing closer to him in a compulsive movement. Without breaking our kiss, his grip shifts from my upper arms to my waist as he lifts me up against him.
Drake walks us backward toward the bed, but stops right at the edge. My hands come to pull at his shirt, fingers sliding under the hem to touch his bare skin. His skin is so hot that it’s practically fevered, like a fire burns inside him.
