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We’re trudging across the parking lot, nearly to the rooms, when Lucy’s foot hits a slick patch of mud. She’s headed toward falling on her ass, but I catch her just in time, pulling her full against me.
With wet bags sandwiched uncomfortably between us, both of us cold and shivering, the moment shouldn’t be sexy.
But when she lifts her eyes to mine, framed by the wet spikes of her long lashes, her eyes dark and smoky, partially from her smeared makeup, partially from the heat between us…
Damn but I want her. Always her.
Maybe only her.
I drop my eyes to her mouth, lowering my head slightly, slowly. I’m giving her time to move away, bracing myself for rejection.
And it’s a good thing too, because she pulls away, just a little, but it’s enough. Enough to tell me to back off.
Apparently the healing power of this plague rain can wash away some of the bad blood between us, but not all of it.
I reach for her bag, slinging it over my free shoulder, hoping she’ll think that was my plan all along. That I’m not obsessed with tasting her again, finding out if her mouth is as perfect against mine now as it was yesterday.
The wind has picked up, and I remember the tornado warning. I nod for her to continue toward the rooms, not that this ramshackle building provides any kind of protection if the weather decides to go all Wizard of Oz on us.
Despite the fact that the motel is a million years old, they’ve surprised me by having upgraded to plastic key cards instead of old-school keys, and Lucy laughs as her slick fingers fumble hers to the ground.
As has become our habit, I wait to see her into her room before going into mine, and with her turned away from me, I let myself take in the slim line of her back, the curve of her ass beneath the jean shorts…
“I can’t wait to see what sort of paradise awaits,” she says as she slips the key into her door.
The light flicks green, and Lucy twists the door handle to push it open….
The door doesn’t open, and we both stare down at the cheap doorknob that now sits uselessly in Lucy’s hand, no longer attached to the door.
“Well then,” she says. “Can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”
She laughs again, turning and looking back toward me, her smile still happy in spite of the weather. “You c
an just drop my bag here. I’ll run back to the front desk, see if they have another room open.”
I’m about to tell her to forget it—that I’ll go, when I see movement out of the corner of my eye.
I turn to my right, see that the man staying in Room 9 has come to see his new neighbors, and the dude is…
Creepy as fuck.
Wispy gray hair, faded wife-beater, ugly khakis, and eyes that fall onto the crazy side of weirdo.
Eyes that don’t even see me, because they’re locked onto Lucy.
Oh, hell no.
I’m not sending her back into the storm to get a new key, and I’m sure as hell not leaving her here alone. But both of us going to get a new room seems stupid, especially since no way am I letting her out of my sight with this guy lurking about and her only protection a flimsy door.
She shifts uneasily under the guy’s scrutiny.
Fuck it.
I drop a possessive hand low on her waist, pulling her toward my door, shifting so that I mostly block the guy’s view of her, giving him a fierce Get back in your room look.
He finally seems to register my presence, his expression borderline sulky as he slinks back into his own room.
I see the curtains of the windows move, and glance down at Lucy, smiling when she mouths creeper.
