To be fair, I should never have assigned the accommodation decision to Nick in the first place, considering how anal I was about that kind of thing. But I was trying really hard to get on board with the whole together/partnership idea and loosen up a little.
Epic fail. Lesson learned.
So what if I liked a bit of comfort? It wasn’t a crime. I could be looser around other things, right? In my defence, I hadn’t said a word about his debatable choice even after I’d secretlygoogled it online and noted the two-and-a-half-star rating with something close to abject horror. A lesser man might’ve raised the issue with their partner right then and there. Maybe offered to look for an alternative. Instead, I’d ignored the temptation to interfere and told myself that the place would likely look better in person.
It didn’t.
What itdidlook like was tired, dated, and barely hygienic. Receiving the key—yes, key, not card; the place looked untouched since the ’60s—I grumped my way up two flights of stairs—no lift—and stalked through the cramped space, barely suppressing the urge to hold my nose. I inspected every flat surface, all the bathroom fixtures, and flung the bedclothes back to check the state of the linen.
Nick watched my antics with an indulgent grin. “You are such a snob.”
“Don’t start with me.” I wagged a finger in his face. “I prefer my bed to come without resident infestations.”
“Dear God, I love you.” Nick drew me in for a kiss before hoisting his bag onto the bed. “But you’re being dramatic. It’s perfectly adequate for a couple of nights and it’s close to the venue. Boxes ticked.”
I wasn’t saying he was wrong, I just didn’t do... sleaze. Unfortunately, I also said that last bit out loud, which only drew more laughter from my soon-to-beex-boyfriend.
“It’snotsleazy,” Nick argued, unpacking his clothes onto the dresser before I even had a chance to wipe the thing down. “It’s just a little old. Some would call it vintage.”
I stared at him bug-eyed. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind?” I looked around the room and shuddered. “This isn’t vintage, baby. And there’s nothing wrong with old.I’mold. This place, on the other hand, has definite by-the-hour sticky-sheetvibes.”
Nick reached for me and tumbled us both onto the bed. “And you know all about, by-the-hour sticky-sheet vibes, do you? Is there something you haven’t told me?”
Heat rushed into my cheeks. “Well... no. Don’t be ridiculous. I just meant... you know, it feels?—”
A hard kiss silenced my whingeing, making my toes curl in the process. Nick had a habit of doing that, of re-centring me, reminding me what was important. By the time he was done, I’d almost forgotten what we’d been talking about.
Almost.
“I just mean that it’s not exactly?—”
“Nope.” Nick flipped us so he was on top and pressed a finger to my lips. “Not another word. We’re here for a book sale, an undeniably exciting event in the ever-charming world of Madigan Church. Youwillenjoy yourself. You willnotlet a little dated décor dull your excitement. Now, say it.”
I narrowed my eyes and slowly grumbled, “I will not let a little dated décor dull my excitement.” Nick arched a brow, so I repeated it, louder. “I will not let a little dated décor dull my excitement.”
He grinned and kissed the end of my nose. “What a good boy.”
My knee just missed his balls.
He tut-tutted. “Naughty, naughty. Now, let’s get unpacked and I’ll take you to a nice romantic restaurant for dinner.”
I shot him a look. “Based on the motel choice, I’m not holding my breath.”
He ignored me. “Tomorrow, the tempting scent of a thousand books awaits you. The lure of ink on paper. The carnal pleasure of leather and boards. The eroticism of an impeccably formed bookstack.” He put his lips next to my ear. “The inevitable arousal from adding to your... collection.” His hipsmade a slow grind against mine and I swallowed a groan. “So you better start unpacking.”
I managed a disdainful, “You’re crazy if you think I’m putting my clothes anywhere near those drawers. And I do not get hard over just any book.” I rolled my eyes. “It has to be... special.”
To his credit, Nick didn’t laugh. He simply wriggled my legs apart and sank between them, upping the pressure as he continued to grind. “Like that Conan Doyle I saw you drooling over in the auction inventory, my little Watson.” His mouth found my throat and a filthy sound fell from my lips.
“I’ve told you many times that Sherlock was nothing more than a showboat.” I slid my hands under his shirt and around the hot skin of his waist. “Watson has always been where it’s at. And you’re not as smart as you think you are, because that’s not the one I’m interested in.” I arched up and Nick groaned with pleasure.
“I’d, um—ugh, fuuuuck.” He ground harder. “Fine and I’d love to know more but right now—” He nibbled along my jaw. “—how much for an hour of your time because I happen to know this great place that rents by the hour.”
I snorted and slipped my hand down the back of his jeans. “You can’t afford me, although I might be willing to negotiate on the basis of these babies.” I squeezed his arse and hummed appreciatively.
“In that case—” Nick began to unbutton my trousers. “—do you take American Express?”
I peeredout the motel window, frowning at the sheeting rain and thunderous morning sky. Touted as one of the sunniestcities in New Zealand, Nelson wasn’t exactly living up to its reputation.
