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“The bathroom is actually clean. And the towels look clean too.”
“Great. Maybe we won’t be infected with the flesh-eating disease after all,” Wes said.
She grinned at him before closing the bathroom door and leaning against it. She was about to share a bed with Wes. She stared at herself in the mirror over the sink. This was fine. Everything was fine. She could share a bed with Wes without trying to coax him into having sex. No problem. No big deal.
* * *
Eleanor hung her damp towel on the hook. She smoothed her t-shirt, tugged self-consciously at her shorts, and ran her hand through her wet hair.
Stop stalling and just go out there already.
She stared at her chest. It was apparent she wasn’t wearing a bra, but she’d be damned if she put one on to go to bed. She had to wear the torture device all day. She wasn’t wearing it all night too. Besides, Wes had made it more than clear that he wouldn’t exactly be seducing her tonight. Hell, she’d be lucky if he didn’t decide to sleep in the car.
She balled up her dirty clothes, tucked them under her arm, and opened the bathroom door. Wes sat at the small table, staring at his phone, and he didn’t look up as she stuffed her clothes into the side pocket of her small suitcase.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, plucking her t-shirt from her chest. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
“Thanks.” Wes grabbed his toiletry bag and clean clothes from his suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom still without looking at her.
She shoved her pillow behind her back and leaned against the headboard. Her stomach growled loudly. Already, she regretted her decision to skip eating in favour of sleep. Especially since she was sure she wouldn’t get much sleep, not with Wes lying in bed next to her.
The shower turned on, and she immediately had a vision of a naked Wes in the shower. Not that she knew what a naked Wes looked like, but she could imagine it. Could imagine it in lust rattling detail, as a matter of fact.
She studied the bathroom door. What would Wes do if she popped into the bathroom and offered to wash his back for him?
So, now you want to be arrested for sexual harassment?
Wes wanted her. There was no way a man could kiss a woman like he’d kissed her, no way a man could say the dirty, delicious stuff he’d said to her if he didn’t want to have sex with her. He just needed the tiniest push in that direction.
Eleanor, no. You’re acting desperate and gross. Wes has made it clear he’s not going to sleep with you.
The reminder that Wes had rejected her rather soundly killed her lust. She scrolled through Facebook for about ten minutes before closing the app. She couldn’t sit here and listen to Wes in the shower, knowing she’d never see him naked. She wasn’t into that kind of mental torture. Feeling sorry for herself, she slid off the bed and rooted through her purse for some money. She’d grab them some food from the vending machine. It was better than nothing.
Holding the cash and the door card key, she stuck her feet into her sandals and left the room. The vending machine was near the office, and she walked past the other first-floor rooms, the warm wind blowing her wet hair back from her face.
She studied the vending machine contents before buying a couple of sodas, two packages of those crackers and fake cheese abominations, and a couple of chocolate bars for dessert.
Eleanor walked back to their room, juggling the drinks, the food, the card key, and change. She stood in front of the door, trying to decide the best way to get the card key to the lock without dropping everything.
The door suddenly whipped open, and she squeaked in surprise, stumbling back when a wild-eyed and dripping wet Wes shouted, “Eleanor!”
“What?” she said. The sodas started to slip, and she squeaked again when Wes pulled her into the room, slamming the door shut. The food and drinks tumbled to the floor, and she stared at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“You can’t just leave the room like that, Eleanor.” Wes’s voice was weird. Higher than usual, like it was on the verge of cracking. “Where were you?”
“Getting us some dinner.” She pointed to the food on the floor. “Why are you freaking…”
Her voice died in her throat, and her irritation that the soda would probably be too fizzy disappeared.
“Wes,” she said.
He ran a hand through his wet hair, pacing with short jerky strides back and forth in front of her. “You can’t leave the room without telling me. Do you understand? It’s late and dark, and who the fuck knows what type of people are lurking around this place.”
“Wes,” she said.
“You could have been kidnapped,” he said. “Did you think about that possibility? Did you even take your Mace with you?”
“Wes,” she said.
