Chapter Fifty-One
The motion of the car lulls me as I fight the urge to open my eyes, the soothing sounds of a guitar eventually breaks through.
‘Out for the count,’ I murmur, stretching and rubbing my eyes.
‘With snores and everything. I could barely hear Asturias.’
‘I didn’t,’ I protest, suddenly wide awake and disconcerted. ‘No way I stopped you from ass... whatever it was.’Ass-what was it?
‘Asturias, the music,’ he says laughing. ‘And how would you know you didn’t snore? You were asleep.’
‘Because I don’t snore. It’s nice, the music. Flamenco-y,’ I add hoping to change the subject. I pause, willing him to expand on his music choice, allowing the topic to move away from further embarrassment, but no, he just continues staring at the road; smug.
Oh, the mortification of it all.
‘Go on then, add to my misery,’ I complain. ‘Tell me I snore like a hog.’
‘A gentleman never tells. I’m not going to tell you how your sweet little snores made me smile or how your sleepy murmurs made me hard.’
‘And that’s a gentleman not telling?’ I fold my arms. ‘Just teasing?’
‘Don’t ask. I don’t tell.’
‘How long was I out?’
‘A little under an hour. We’re nearly there.’
‘I’m not great company on a road trip.’ I yawn, stretching out my arms and chest, pushing the sleep from my body.
‘I’ve had worse companions.’ He slides an appreciative glance my way. ‘You’re certainly easier on the eye than Rashid.’
‘Thanks, I think. Though I do lack a certain length of something, compared to Rashid.’
This time his glance my way is wry. ‘I’m not sure where you’re going with that. Care to expand?’
‘Think it was black, and about, hmm, yay long?’ I hold out my fingers, approximating a vague length.’ Then burst into a fit of giggles. ‘His gun. The barrel? Was black and about this long?’ I might be mistaken, but I’m pretty sure he just rolled his eyes. ‘Hey, why isn’t he driving? You could’ve slept, too. Arrived all fresh eyed and bushy tailed to our secret destination.’
‘Bleary eyed and bushy mouthed, more like.’ I purse my lips together and mentally make a note of not getting too close before acquainting myself with a tube of toothpaste or at least a packet of mints. ‘I hate falling asleep when I’m travelling. I always seem to wake up in the foulest of moods. I’m not a great sleeper in general. How do you think I got the photos of you in bed?’
‘You don’t sleep?’ I can’t believe I haven’t noticed, but then he’s usually worn me out before I fall asleep in his arms.
‘I do, just not as much as you. Hence the photos. I like to watch,’ he replies, tone ribald.
‘A sleep voyeur? That’s a new one on me, but as I slept and you watched, it worked out well for both of us.’
‘Any time spent with you is time well spent.’
I absolutely flush with pleasure because that’s got to be a little more adoration there, but, Christ, I hope Iwasn’tsnoring.
‘Sorry,’ I say feebly. Sorry for sleeping, sorry for snoring? Who knows?
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll think of a way to make it up to me. If not, I can certainly think of a thing or two...’
‘I just bet you can.’ I don’t know how he manages to bring every conversation back to sex. It must be a knack or something. Or maybe he was right when he said everything in the world is about sex. And sex is about power. Nope, not going with that line of thinking again. ‘D-did I miss anything?’ I stammer. ‘While I was snoring away?’
‘Let me see.’ He rubs a hand across his cheek in mock contemplation. ‘You missed me fighting the urge to pull over and disturb you, bend you over the backseat and—ouch!’ He chuckles, moving nearer to the door as I slap his arm. ‘Obviously I didn’t. I couldn’t wake you through the snoring!’
‘You’re such a slut,’ I grumble, fighting my smile.
