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Right.
Now, if she could just get her body on board with her brain.
They played more games but she sat out Twister, hating the jealousy that crawled up her spine and lodged in her chest as she watched Mitchell and Collette wind around each other.
The fire was built up more, popcorn was popped over the open flames, and s’mores were made. Stomach full of food and sore from laughing, Hope burrowed down into the seat as she sleepily half listened to the conversations going on around her, hushed and muted.
“Come along, Flykra, time to get you to bed.” Mitchell’s strong hand curved around her upper arm, encouraging her to sit forward and climb out of the seat.
Sonya and Wendy both waggled their eyebrows at her and shot her a very noticeable thumbs up.
“See you two in the morning,” Wendy called out as Hope got to her feet and gingerly put weight on her leg.
“Night, Wendy.”
“Are you two rooming near each other?” Collette asked, reaching out a hand toward Mitchell.
Hope barely bit back her snarl as she angled herself in front of Mitchell. “You could say that. We’re sharing a room and a bed.”
Crap, had she snapped that out there like a jealous girlfriend? From the looks on everyone’s faces, yes, that’s exactly what she’d done.
Well, poop.
Chapter Seven
Mitchell couldn’t stop grinning as he followed Hope up the stairs to their room. And he didn’t want to stop. Their room. Two words he had no problem thinking about. Hell, he enjoyed that label.
She’d been jealous. No other way around it. Hope had been jealous of Collette and damn if that didn’t make him feel good. Never in his life had he been so tempted to tuck a woman against his side as he had when she’d stepped in front of him and staked her claim.
Dragging his gaze up her full figure, he bit his lower lip. His hands itched to earn permission to explore those dangerous curves.
At their door, he reached around her, making sure to brush his body against hers, then unlocked and opened the door for her.
“After you, Flykra.”
There was a decided chill in the room and Mitchell closed the door before immediately heading to the fireplace to add some wood to the embers. He crouched down and got to work.
“I’m sorry.”
He paused in blowing on the embers to gaze at her over his shoulder. She remained near the door, hands wringing as she held them in front of her.
“For?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Blurting that out down there.”
Damn, this woman impressed the fuck out of him. Even now, she didn’t look away from him but held his gaze straight on.
He couldn’t help but smile at her, admiring the small furrow she got in her forehead as she tried, most likely, to figure out what his issue was.
“Why are you apologizing for telling the truth? We are sharing a room.” He dragged his tongue along his lower lip. “And a bed.”
“Still not my place. Especially if you were interested in Collette or someone else.”
There was someone that had snatched his interest. But she wasn’t down there or in any other room. No, that woman was right here in front of him, making him harder than steel.
“She has nothing that interests me.”
Hope was an obvious skeptic to that statement. “I think I need to lie down.”
She moved by him and vanished into the small bathroom. When she came out later, he had the fire burning and he stood by the window looking out into the darkness. Pulling his gaze from nothing, he watched her move in the window’s reflection as she made her way to the bed and sat with a sigh.
Mitchell gave her a few moments and walked to the bathroom to get ready himself. When he stepped out in a pair of workout pants, she was sitting in the exact same spot, rubbing the nape of her neck. But she’d changed. Her hair had been pulled up into a messy bun, exposing the curve of her neck. He wanted to push his nose into her skin and smell. Kiss. Nibble. Touch.
Without giving himself time to talk himself out of it or ask permission, he shuffled over the mattress on his knees until he was behind her. Brushing her hands away, he placed his own there instead and began to give her a massage.
Hope went tense for all of ten seconds. Then she melted like a pat of butter on a hot skillet, with a moan that shot directly to his groin.
“Oh God, your hands are magic.” Her low southern drawl pulled over his skin, much like silk sheets would.
And God, he craved more.
It wasn’t all he wanted. Mitchell wanted this woman on silk sheets, her curls spread over his bedding, lips wet from their kisses, parted as she moaned and cried out his name. He needed her naked beneath him, spread wide as she took all of him deep inside her. On her hands and knees, his grip holding tight to her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he claimed her.
