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“You’re sweet.” Her hand cups my cheek, placing a soft kiss on my lips before she spins around to grab our towels. I groan at the loss of her, of seeing her bare chest and pussy, but God damn do I love that ass of hers. She sneaks a peek over her shoulder, and I’ll be damned if Tinsley doesn’t know what she does to me.
“Minx,” I state as we each dry off. I see the yawn she’s trying to hide, and I know it’s time for us to get some shuteye before we hit the road for another fourteen hours.
“I’m ready to pass out.” She hangs up her towel, walks out of the bathroom, and I watch as she leaves, that sweet ass moving with every step.
“Are you coming to bed?” she asks once she’s at the side of the bed, moving the covers down before sliding inside.
“Fuck yes, I am,” I groan before following her. Shit, I’d follow Tinsley anywhere if it meant I was able to hold her in my arms. She scoots over to the other side, and I get in behind her. That luscious ass of hers will be pressed up against me in no time. My hand moves underneath the nape of her neck as she scoots back, and I gather her closer as we slowly start to fall asleep, the comfortable silence and her deep breathing luring me into a lull.
Ten
Tinsley
Leo and I are back on the road, more miles eating up the highway as his Suburban drives smoothly across the interstate. I wish we had time to stop and be tourists in a town or two, but after the call Leo received this morning, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. He still hasn’t come down from the way his jaw was clenched so tightly I could hear his teeth grinding.
“I promise we’ll talk as soon as I process shit. I’m trying not to turn around and head right back to Washington.” I bob my head, confirming that I heard him. Leo’s arm is on the dash, and my hand’s been on his bicep for a while now, trying to soothe him while he drives. His fingers were too busy tapping for me to entwine ours together, so I did the next best thing. I’m not entirely sure it’s helping, but the news he received must have been horrible when even after thirty minutes, he’s still not relaxed.
“Okay, take your time. Mind if I change the station?” He’s listening to talk radio, something I loathe. Leo is young, well, not young-young. He’s twenty-five, for goodness sakes, yet he’s listening to the news on some station while we’re driving. We stopped to grab food on our way out of the hotel this morning. I’d love to say that my morning wake-up call came in the way of Leo’s lips passing over my body. It didn’t though, and I groaned the entire time while getting ready. After we got out of the shower, we both promptly passed out, but at four o’clock this morning, Leo’s phone beeped with the alarm. I buried myself under the pillow, which didn’t last long. Apparently, the man I’m halfway in love with is a morning person, and that’s just a bundle of joy when you love sleep. And I do love my sleep. Sleeping in on the weekends is one of my favorite pastimes. That came to an abrupt stop when my parents demanded I move back in with them a few weeks ago.
“Go ahead. If you want to work on some schoolwork, I have a hot spot that’s not connected to Nighthawk or myself. It’s in my laptop bag behind your seat,” Leo offers.
“Are you sure? I can get lost in my work and be the most invisible person when it comes to school.” I watch to see what he says or does, the little nuances that give him away. This time, it’s the slight lift of his lips that lets me know he doesn’t mind. It might be a good idea for both of us, him processing what was said on the phone and me realizing just how much of a scum bucket my parents are.
“Yeah, baby. How’s that creative writing class you’re taking?”
“Wait, how did you know that? I kept that from everyone.” I turn around in my seat after digging around in his laptop bag before finding the hot spot. My own laptop bag is by my seat.
“Tinsley, how do you expect me not to know everything about you? Shit, I knew you liked your bra and underwear to match within the first twenty-four hours. It’s my job to know everything, maybe not the finer things, but you catch my drift.”
“I knew something was messed up in my drawers. I mean, do you see how crazy insane I keep them organized? I’m not sure you noticed that or how even while living out of a suitcase, I’m still able to maintain a ridiculous amount or organizational skills.” I get my laptop set up, my emails pinging right and left once the internet hits it. I ignore them, going straight to my college email instead of my personal one. I’m not interested in anything else, sales or spam. You’d think my compulsion to be organized in certain aspects of my life would bleed into the technology side. It doesn’t. I can have alerts and notifications everywhere and seemingly ignore them.
