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There’s an urgency in my blood. It’s simmering, threatening to boil over. If I ever doubted she felt the same way, I don’t any longer as she unclips her seatbelt the second I place the truck in park.
We reach for each other at the same time, her leg lifting to straddle me right here in the damn truck.
“Fuck,” I groan when she rolls her hips.
I reach up, pulling her hair and forcing her head back so I can suck at the sensitive skin on her neck, feeling more than a little pleased with the mark I leave behind.
I have to take controlled breaths when she reaches between us, her fingers struggling to unzip my jeans.
We both jerk at the tap on the window.
I feel like a fool. I’ve vowed to protect this woman, and I’ve let my fucking dick put her in danger. I don’t reach for the gun under the seat because I’d have every cop in the state of Texas after my ass if I hurt the state trooper standing outside the window.
“Shit,” Ayla grumbles as she climbs off my lap.
I hate that she moves all the way to the passenger seat.
I roll down the window, putting that good ‘ol boy look I perfected long ago on my face.
The guy looks from me to my girl before settling his eyes back on me.
There’s a soft smile on his face as if he understands my inability to control myself.
“This isn’t the place for that,” he says, his voice sterner than the look in his eyes.
“No, sir. It isn’t,” I agree.
“License and insurance?”
“Of course,” I say, reaching across the truck to pull the documentation from the glove box.
The insurance is fake, but unless I’m in an accident, the cop would never know. The ID is fake also, but unless he digs really deep, he’ll never know that I’m not actually Nash Cutler. I’ve spent the last decade building that name, and I’m pretty positive it’ll pass as real.
I hand the two pieces of documentation over to him, looking back at Ayla.
Her eyes are glued out of the front windshield, but she doesn’t seem scared.
“I’m going to—”
A group of loud cars roar past on the interstate, grabbing the trooper’s attention.
“There are several choices of hotels to choose from two exits up,” he says as he shoves the driver’s license and insurance card back at me. “Be safe.”
“You too,” I say, but he’s already rushing back to his car.
I roll my window up, waiting for him to pull out from behind us before I look back over at Ayla.
Her eyes are on mine this time, and I can tell she’s biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
“That’s so embarrassing,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.
I nod in agreement, but I don’t say anything else as I pull off the shoulder. I stay on the frontage road, getting no argument from her as I pull into the closest hotel parking lot.
She climbs out when I do, following behind me as I enter the front of the building.
The clerk looks from me to her, and I see what he sees. But her mussed hair and the way her clothes aren’t hanging just right has a different definition for me than it does for him.
“Miss, are you okay?” he asks. As fucking annoying as it is, good for him.
Ayla presses closer, and fuck if I don’t love the way she runs her hand up my back as she speaks.
“We’d like a room, please. One bed.”
The clerk doesn’t seem impressed with either of us but he doesn’t argue as he takes my fake ID and enters my information into the computer. Normally, I’d have a problem with it. I’d take the time to search out a place that takes cash and doesn’t ask questions, but my patience is fucking over.
He hands us the keys, quickly going back to sit on the stool behind the desk and turns his attention back to the small television on the table.
The air between us feels alive as we climb into the elevator, and it only thickens as we approach and enter the room we’ve been assigned.
“I’m not a gentle lover,” I confess once we’re closed into the room, the scent of it welcoming, a far cry from the one we were in in Mexico.
“I don’t need you to be gentle,” she says without hesitation.
There’s no regret in her tone. She doesn’t look around the room as she closes the distance between us. She doesn’t seem to regret her decision as she lifts onto her toes before pressing her mouth to mine.
Chapter 39
Ayla
“Wait,” he says before I can press my mouth to his again.
He clears his throat as if it pains him to press the brakes.
“Maybe we should talk first.”
“Talk? Like have the I’ve had blank amount of partners conversation?”
