“I know,” I admit, my hands automatically finding her waist to steady her. “I just couldn’t stop. This data is?—”
“Life-changing? Revolutionary? Better than sex?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say, feeling a smile tug at my lips. “But it’s pretty spectacular.”
“Mmm.” She nuzzles against my neck, and I feel her smile against my skin. “Better than Lucas’s commentary?”
“Definitely better than that.”
Her laugh vibrates against me, warm and intimate in the quiet motel room. Max lifts his head from the bed, watching us with sleepy interest before deciding we’re not doing anything worth interrupting his rest. He sighs dramatically and flops back down.
“How’s your shoulder?” I ask, my fingers instinctively moving to trace the outline of her sling.
“Sore,” she admits, “but worth it.” She shifts in my lap, wincing a little.
“You should get back into bed,” I tell her, running my fingers gently along her good arm. “You need rest.”
She looks up at me through those heavy-lidded eyes, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Only if you come with me,” she murmurs against my ear. “And with significantly less clothing on.”
My body responds immediately to her suggestion, heat pooling low in my stomach. “Lila, your shoulder?—”
“Is the only thing that needs to stay secured,” she interrupts, her good hand already working at the buttons of my shirt. “The rest of me is capable as you might remember.”
I hesitate, torn between desire and concern. “Are you sure?”
In response, she shifts in my lap, deliberately pressing against the evidence of how much I want her. “Very sure,” she whispers. “Besides, I believe I was promised a celebration.”
That breaks my resolve. I stand, lifting her carefully in my arms. She weighs almost nothing, her body fitting against mine like she was designed to be there. Max barely stirs as I carry her to the bed, depositing her gently on the mattress.
“You’re overdressed, Professor,” she teases, watching me with that knowing look.
I don’t need to be told twice. I tug my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor. Lila’s expression shifts as she watches, something heated settling in. She’s propped against the pillows, but there’s nothing fragile about her now.
“Better,” she adds, her tone low. “But I’m pretty sure I asked for significantly less clothing.”
I can’t help but smile as I reach for my belt. “You’re quite demanding tonight.”
“I almost died in a tornado, then watched you collect data on another one,” she points out, shifting on the bed. “I think I’ve earned the right to make demands.”
I work my belt free, then my pants, sliding them down my legs with more efficiency than grace. “Fair point.”
“Now come here,” she whispers, reaching for me with her good hand.
I move toward her, carefully settling beside her on the bed. Max has already relocated to the foot of the mattress, apparently unfazed by our activities. My fingers find the hem of her sleep shirt, gently lifting it.
“Let me help you with this,” I murmur. “Arms up—well, arm up.”
She laughs softly, raising her good arm while I work the fabric around her injured shoulder with painstaking care. When the shirt finally comes free, revealing her bare skin inch by inch, my breath catches. No matter how many times I see her like this, it feels like a privilege I haven’t earned. She’s beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with conventional standards—all wild energy and unfiltered passion wrapped in soft curves and freckled skin.
“You’re staring again,” she whispers, her good hand reaching for me.
“I can’t help it.” I trace my fingers along her collarbone, down to the swell of her breast. “You’re extraordinary.”
She shivers under my touch, goosebumps rising on her skin. “Less talking, more touching,” she commands, though her voice has gone breathless.
I lower my mouth to her neck, tasting the salt of her skin as my hand cups her breast. She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips that sends heat straight through me. My thumb brushes across her nipple, feeling it tighten beneath my touch.
“God, Jonah,” she breathes, her fingers tangling in my hair.
