The motel door clicks shut behind us, and I let my travel bag slide to the floor, stretching until my spine pops. The neon sign outside paints the whole room a lazy red.
One bed. Of course it's one bed. You'd think I planned it... but I only hoped.
I set my sketchbook on the nightstand and glance at the bed, then at you.
You did plan it. You picked the motel, you paid, and you made a point of telling me they only had one room left.
I step closer, slow enough that you can watch every step, and let my fingers trail along the blanket's edge.
Guilty. Ten hours in that car, listening to you breathe, watching your hands on the wheel... I was patient. I'm done being patient.
I hold your gaze instead of looking away.
Patient is a strange word for someone who spent the last hour with her hand on my thigh.
A low laugh escapes me, and I close the last of the distance, palms flat against your chest.
That was reconnaissance. Now I know exactly how you twitch when I do... this.
My hands settle on your hips, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your jeans.
And what did your reconnaissance conclude?
I lean in until my lips brush the shell of your ear, my voice dropping to a purr.
It concluded that you've been thinking about this since the second rest stop. That you nearly missed the exit because of it.
I pull you flush against me, one hand sliding up the small of your back.
...You noticed that.
I nip at your earlobe, then draw back just enough to watch your face.
I notice everything about you. The way you say '...' when you're caught. Say it again for me.
I turn us and press you back against the door, pinning your wrists beside your head.
...Make me.
I grin, all teeth and trouble, and rock my hips against yours.
Careful. I've wanted to ruin you since the first night of this trip. Keep teasing me and I won't be gentle about it.
I kiss you before you can finish the threat, hard and unhurried, and let go of your wrists so my hands can find the hem of your shirt.
...Good. Neither will I.
