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It was the Catholic in me that was turned on, I thought.
Knowing Digger was out there. Knowing he was asleep. The star of my fantasies from when I was younger…
I kept my leg high because it was tight in the small tub, and, intentionally this time, I rubbed my knuckles along the crease of my slit. A shaky breath escaped me as I caught my clit with my middle finger, and I rocked my hips back, parted my thighs more—
“You okay in there? You didn’t drown in the bath, did you?”
My leg automatically kicked forward into the water with a splash. “I-I’m fine,” I sputtered, mortified.
He grunted. “Good. Just checking.”
My waking up had wokenhimup?
“Get yourself ready. If we’re both awake, then we should head out.”
The whine froze on my lips, much as I’d be freezing later on that damn bike of his.
“He’s doing this for you,” I whispered under my breath, even though the prospect of riding for several hours was akin to torture.
As torturous as being raped by Bill Murphy?
Inside, everything turned to ice.
Because of course, nothing was as bad as that.
I finished washing up without another peep and didn’t utter a word of complaint when I settled on the back of the bike a half hour or so later…
11
DIGGER
She was a good girl,I had to give her that.
I felt her discomfort like it was my own over the coming hours. She was cold, but she didn’t complain as she huddled against me.
She was sore, but she didn’t tug on my hand whenever there was a rest stop for a break.
Her silence worked in her favor because, whenever a sign for a diner popped up and we’d been on the road for at least two hours, I stopped.
Whether it was for coffee or food, we took a break, and each time she sank into a booth or seat, I’d watch her face.
That expression, I was starting to be certain, would be what she looked like when she came.
Relief and need and want—in this instance, for coffee, but I’d take it.
She was hot and pretty to fucking look at—sue me.
When we’d driven through Iowa, Nebraska, and Colorado, I started looking for a motel around the Utah border.
After we found one, I also saw a drugstore, and because I knew her pain would only get worse, not better, I stopped there first.
“Come on,” I told her, gently squeezing her knee. “I need to get some stuff.”
Like the trooper she was—it was ridiculous to be proud of her, right?—she got off.
As we walked into the store, she leaned on me. Damn if that didn’t make me feel ten feet tall to have a woman like this leaning on a man like me.
“How’s your knee?” she croaked.
