“There’s no way we’re driving in this. You realize that, right? You white knuckled it on the drive here and the roads were fine.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “Forgive me for being nervous about driving a car that costs the same as my college tuition…for all four years.”
Blue rolls his eyes. “Two, tops. But do you really want to drive that car in this weather? No shade on your driving skillsat all, but if we get stuck, we’re going to be freezing our asses off waiting for a tow.” After tapping on his phone for a minute, he flashes me a smile. “There’s a hotel around the corner, and they’ve got a couple rooms left. Let’s play it safe and spend the night, and then we can head out when the roads clear up tomorrow. Oh, and they have room service, so we won’t starve.”
We literally just finished eating, but I’m not going to mention that. And I’m not even going to fight with Blue about staying over for the night. I’m sure I’ll find something to fight with him about, but it won’t be this.
Yes, our arrangement is temporary. And no, we have nothing in common but our mutual desire for each other’s bodies. But we have a night all to ourselves and a shopping bag full of sex toys, so I’m just going to enjoy this while it lasts.
23
Blue
Is this what dating feels like? I haven’t been in many relationships, and the ones I’ve had have been pretty casual, so I’m no expert. But it feels like I’m dating Liza. Like she’s my girlfriend. Like we’re away for the weekend and we’re about to tear into the cache of sex toys we bought earlier today.
And I like it.
Not just the sex toy part, either. I like all of it. Listening to music on the way down here, grabbing a bite to eat and just talking about our lives—it’s all been so easy, so natural. I don’t want to jinx anything, but Liza’s starting to let her guard down, and I’m wondering if she feels as comfortable—as good—as I do.
I scan the key card into the lock and hold the door open so she can go in first. This was the one of the last few rooms they had, and the only suite, so there’s plenty of space—not that we’ll need much. The weather should clear up by midafternoon tomorrow, so if traffic’s not too bad, we should make it back into town just before the guys do.
I pull off my hoodie and drape it over the back of a chair to dry. I probably should have worn a jacket today, but I never eventhought to look at the weather forecast, and, honestly, I’m glad I didn’t or else we probably wouldn’t be here.
Turning toward the center of the room, I spot Liza pulling off her sweatshirt, as well. And her leggings. I damn near swallow my tongue. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen her naked or how often I’ve kissed the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Every time I see her body, I’m a goner. “Are those wet from the snow?” I ask, pausing to clear my throat. “I can see if there are laundry facilities so we can run them through the dryer.”
Liz shakes her head as she finishes shimmying out of her clothes before draping them across another armchair. She walks toward me, not stopping until we’re only about a foot apart. I stare, transfixed, as she stands before me in just a pair of gray cotton panties and a matching sports bra. It’s not the kind of stuff that’s designed to be sexy. It’s made for comfort. But holy fucking hell does she look good.
“That’s not necessary. My clothes will be dry by morning,” she tells me, toying with her ponytail. “And I wasn’t planning on wearing anything to bed tonight, were you?”
“Naked works for me,” I tell her as I sit on the edge of the bed to unstrap my air cast. I expect Liza to crawl onto the bed next to me, but instead, she kneels on the floor in front of me, her hands covering mine as she gently helps me free my leg from the stupid boot I’ve got to wear for the next few days. It’s a sweet gesture, and again, it feels relationship-y. That’s probably not a word, but it should be.
“How’s your ankle?” she asks, looking and finding my eyes. “If you just need to prop it up and relax tonight?—”
“It’s fine,” I assure her as I work pants down my legs and leave them lying in a puddle on the floor. “I had it propped on the chair next to you while we ate, and it really is feeling better. I’ll ice it later and elevate it, but right now I don’t want to think about my ankle or my injury.”
“What would you like to think about?” Liza’s flirty smile is genuine. There’s not a coy bone in her body, and that’s one of the things I like most about her: she’s genuine. There’s no pretense with Liza DeWalt. What you see is what you get and that’s a rare quality where I come from.
The right answer to her question is the checklist. It’s not only logical, it’s safe. That list is part of the reason we’re here in the first place and it’s an actual, practical reason for what we’re about to do.
But it’s not the whole truth.
I don’t care about ticking off the boxes on a checklist. I don’t care about making notes and comparing one method to another. Not really, not in a clinical way. I care about making Liza feel good. I care about her pleasure, her confidence, her raw and uninhibited desire. I care about what Liza feels and wants in the moment.
I care about Liza.
Not just as a housemate or a friend.
Not as a partner in a quest for great sex.
As a person.
As a woman.
As a lover.
I’m falling so damn hard and fast for Liza that I should be panicking, breaking out into a cold sweat and running for the door.
Instead, I’m diving right in.
