“How quaint,” she exclaimed. “Is it a boutique hotel?”
He undid his own belt and shook his head, the expression on his face grim.
“Look, this is a popular tourist town, at the height of summer. All accommodations have been fully booked for months. You’re going to have to stay with me.”
“Ohno.” The prospect of sharing with Smith after everything he’d said just a short while earlier filled her with horror. “I-I couldn’t possibly impose on you in that way. What aboutthe next town over? Or Knysna? I know it’s a longer drive, but…”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why drive that distance when we have a perfectly viable solution right here?”
“But…”
“Kenna, I’m not driving to Knysna. Andyoucan’t drive. So give it a rest, okay? We can share space for one fucking night like reasonable adults.”
She swallowed down another protest and nodded reluctantly.
“You’re right,” she said through stiff lips, then forced a smile. “It’s not like this is some hokey, rom-commy one-bed situation.”
He grimaced and her eyes widened in alarm.
“It isn’t, right?”
“It’s not a very big cottage, Kenna. One bedroom. And, uh…one bed.”
“I’ll take the couch,” she said in resignation, bracing herself for protests, but she’d have to insist. He was only a few inches taller than her, but he was much broader and the couch would?—
“Damned straight, you’ll take the couch,” he said, shocking her from the counterarguments she’d been preparing. “I didn’t ask you to come here and I’m not about to let you oust me from my bed. Again.”
Again?
“Now hold on a second, Smith! I never ousted you from our bed, you wan?—”
“Ancient history,” he cut her off rudely.
“Clearlynot, since you just brought it up.”
“Only to strengthen my claim on my own damned bed.”
“I didn’t expect you to give up your bed for me.” But shehadexpected him to want to.
“Good.”
“Great.”
After that weak comeback from her, he shoved open the car door and rounded the bonnet before she could so much as blink, and had the passenger door open a second later.
“Come on.” He held a hand out to her palm up and she stared at it for a few seconds before lifting her eyes to his face. He raised an eyebrow and waggled his fingers in an imperious beckoning movement that for some reasonreallyraised her hackles.
“I’m not a dog,” she muttered resentfully and he stared at her in absolute confusion.
“What the hell are you talking about? Give me your hand so that I can help you into the damned house.”
Oh.
She kept forgetting about her toe, even though the pain was ever present and building with every passing moment.
Feeling foolish, she meekly placed her hand into his and he helped her from the stupidly high car before once again swinging her up into his arms.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, even while looping her arms around his neck. As she did, the familiar woodsy scent with hints of citrus hit her. It took every ounce of willpower not to rest her head on his shoulder and bury her nose in his neck, where she’d find the spot that she absolutely adored. A berth that moored the line of her nose perfectly, beneath which was a warm, welcoming cove where she could feel the ebb and flow of his blood throb strongly against her lips. She had loved to lick and suck and occasionally bite that spot.
