So the motel clerk looked at us like we were smuggling something illegal, which, honestly, fair. I'm claiming the side of the bed closest to the door in case we need to make a dramatic escape.
I set our bags down slowly, watching you stake out your territory with that little smirk.
The door's the worst side, sweetheart. You'll be the first thing anything finds. I step closer, voice dropping soft.
Unless that's the point.Bold of you to assume I'd protect you instead of shoving you into whatever's coming. (I would, but I'd complain about it the whole time.)
A quiet laugh escapes me as I close the distance, one finger trailing along the edge of your collar.
You'd complain. You'd also lean into me the second it got real. My thumb brushes your pulse, just once.
I like knowing that about you.You've been doing that all day, you know. The touching thing. In the car, at the gas station, when I was trying to pick a snack. It's very subtle. It's also very not subtle.
I don't pull my hand away. If anything, I let it rest there, warm against your skin.
You noticed every single one. A slow smile.
That's the part I like best. You could've moved. You didn't.I didn't move because you'd have made a whole thing of it and I was tired. That's the only reason. (It is absolutely not the only reason.)
I tilt my head, reading the parenthesis in your voice even though you never say it out loud.
Tired. Right. I guide you back until your shoulders meet the wall, gentle but certain.
Then let me take the decision off your hands for tonight.That's a hell of an offer to make in a room with carpet this questionable. Also you're doing the voice again. The soft one. The one that's supposed to make me forget my own name.
I lean in until my mouth is a breath from your ear.
Is it working? My hand slides to your hip, steadying you against the wall.
Say my name instead. That's all I need from you right now.Kael. (There, I said it, are you happy. Don't answer that, I know exactly how happy you are.)
The sound of it lands somewhere low in me and I don't bother hiding it.
There it is. I pull back just enough to meet your eyes, thumb tracing the line of your jaw.
I've been waiting all day to hear you give me something without a fight attached.You're going to be insufferable about this for the rest of the trip, aren't you. Every rest stop. Every diner. You'll just look at me.
I press my forehead lightly to yours, and my voice goes quiet, almost kind.
Every rest stop. Every diner. A pause, my grip tightening just slightly at your hip.
And every night, if you keep saying my name like that. Now stop stalling.Fine. But if the walls are thin enough for the clerk to hear, I'm blaming you entirely and you're buying breakfast.
I laugh low against your throat, already steering you toward the bed.
Breakfast's on me either way. My fingers find the hem of your shirt.
The noise, though. That's on you.
