“Oh god,” I groan, tearing my gaze away from the mirrored ceiling. “This just keeps getting worse.”
Lila laughs, then immediately clutches her injured shoulder.
“Sorry,” I mutter, setting down the rest of our things. Max circles the room three times, sniffing every corner before settling into a spot near the foot of the bed. His wet fur has left damp patches on the carpet.
“I should take him out quickly before the storm gets worse,” I say, grateful for any excuse to escape the awkwardness of our situation. “He probably needs to...you know.”
“Go potty?” Lila supplies, her eyes twinkling despite her obvious fatigue. “You can say it, Professor.”
“Right.” I feel my face heating up again. “Do you need anything before I go? Water? Pain medication?”
“I'm okay for now.” She leans back against the headboard, wincing as she adjusts her position. “But if you pass a vending machine, I wouldn't say no to something sugary.”
“I'll see what I can find.”
Max seems less than thrilled about venturing back into the storm, but nature calls, and he dutifully trots alongside me.
The rain pummels us as Max reluctantly does his business near a sad-looking shrub. I stand there getting soaked, my thoughts as turbulent as the storm around us. One room. One bed. One kiss I can't stop thinking about.
“Come on, buddy,” I urge as Max takes his time sniffing every inch of wet ground. “Some of us don't have fur coats.”
He gives me a look that clearly communicates his disapproval of the entire situation before finally finishing up. As we hurry back toward the room, I spot a vending machine tucked under the walkway overhang.
I dig in my pocket for loose change, feeding quarters into the machine until I've secured a colorful assortment of sugar that would make any nutritionist weep. Chocolate bars, gummy bears, and some neon orange cheese puffs that Lila had specifically praised early on in our road trip. My arms full of junk food, I lead Max back to our room.
When I open the door, the sight of her hits me hard enough to stop me in the doorway.
Lila’s changed into an oversized T-shirt that hangs loose on her frame, the collar slipping off her good shoulder to reveal smooth skin faintly flushed from the storm. Her injured arm rests carefully in its sling across her chest. She’s leaned back against the headboard with her eyes closed, damp hair falling around her face, breathing slow and steady like she finally let herself relax the second we made it somewhere safe.
And God help me, she’s beautiful.
Desire punches through me instantly, hot and sharp.
My body reacts before my brain can catch up. A heavy ache settles low in my stomach as heat rushes through me, my cock already hardening at the sight of her in bed looking warm and sleepy and entirely too tempting. I shift instinctively, jaw tightening as my jeans suddenly feel uncomfortably restrictive.
Fuck.
It’s the combination of everything that destroys me—the oversized shirt slipping down her shoulder, the memory of her kissing me back like she wanted me just as badly, the soft sound she made in the field when I pulled her closer.
My mind turns traitorous immediately.
I think about kneeling between her knees. About dragging my mouth across the bare skin of her shoulder. About how she’d look underneath me if I kissed her like that again.
The thought sends another hard pulse of arousal through me.
I grip the motel key tighter, trying desperately to get myself under control before she opens her eyes and realizes exactly what seeing her like this is doing to me.
Seriously. Get it together.
My dick, apparently having completely abandoned higher reasoning, does not listen.
I stare at Lila for one more disastrous second before dragging my gaze toward the ceiling like that’s somehow going to help. It does not help. Because there, perfectly placed above her is the mirror.
“Oh, fuck.”
The mirror above the bed reflects everything with horrifying clarity. From this angle, I can see the way Lila’s t-shirt has slipped further down her shoulder, exposing more of that smooth skin. I can see myself standing awkwardly in the doorway, arms full of vending machine treasures, staring at her.
We are not doing this right now.
