“Yeah?” His eyes flick up to the rearview, checking on the tornado, and then to me. “You sure you’re okay with that?”
I settle with the realization he’s willing to skip it if I’m uncomfortable. Maybe Wes really does mean it when he says he’s sorry for getting distracted. “Let’s do it. Just don’t lie down in the road again, okay?”
“Got it. No more playing roadkill.”
“Wes!”
He flashes me a mischief-filled grin, lifts my hand to his mouth, and presses a kiss to my skin. “Just playin’,” he says, though there’s a wobble in the words that makes me wonder how much of his blasé attitude is faked. “I’ll be careful, promise.”
“Better be,” I tell him with a sharp look right before he lets my hand go and turns east.
Three seconds later, his window is down again and he’s holding his phone out, right hand gripping the steering wheel as he lets out whoops of excitement. I shake my head, fighting a smile. Maybe I should be more concerned, but filming out the window while driving is standard-issue reckless. I can’t be mad about something I’ve done hundreds of times myself.
The lingering unease over everything else that just went down is less easily dismissed.
It’s another late night when we finally pull into the hotel parking lot. I’m mid–adrenaline crash, my body so heavy I briefly consider going to sleep in the passenger seat.
Wes isn’t doing much better. He lets out a jaw-cracking yawn after shutting the car off, his head lolling back on theseat while we both sit in the sudden silence. “We gotta go inside.” He turns toward me and yawns again. “Bed is right there.”
“So far.” I rub my eyes with a moan and swallow my own yawn. “At least we can sleep in a little. Okay. We can do this.”
I sleepwalk my way through check-in, and then we’re in another elevator, facing another set of hotel rooms—and another choice about how our evening ends.
“Almost there,” Wes says softly, holding his arm in front of the elevator door so I can step out first. We shuffle onto our floor wrapped up in each other, which doesn’t make it any easier to navigate the space with our camera bags and duffels. Both of our rooms are toward the end of the hall—I’m in 325 and Wes is across from me in 328.
“It’s been a long day,” he says at the same moment I blurt out, “I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”
The tension drains out of me as we share a relieved laugh. There’s a faint wash of color in his cheeks, his expression soft as he steps into my space and drops his bags at his feet. Cupping my jaw in his palms, Wes leans in and brushes a kiss against my mouth. “We’re both exhausted,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumb along my cheekbone when he breaks the kiss. “Go get some sleep.”
Except he doesn’t let go, and I don’t make any move to step away. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the day, or maybe it’s just that my body has been desperate for the weight of his again, but I’m the one who presses onto my toes and wraps my arms around his neck.
Wes responds instantly, backing me up against the door and kissing me like he’s been dying of thirst all day. There’snothing sweet about this kiss, just hunger and need in the plunge of his tongue and the nip of his teeth. I forget we’re in the hallway where anyone could see us and roll my hips against his, moaning at the feral sound that rumbles out of him. One hand fists his shirt, dragging him closer, while the other dips under the soft cotton to trace his abdomen, hot, soft skin over rigid muscle.
The ding of the elevator jerks us back to our senses. We break apart, breathing heavily. Wes rests his forehead against mine for a long moment. “Wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to invade my dreams tonight,” he says in a rough voice before pushing off the door. Eyes still burning with want, he bends to grab his bags. “Good night, Sloane.”
The raspy way he says my name sends tingles racing down my spine. I shove my key into the door, but before I go in, I pause long enough to catch his eye over my shoulder and say, “I’lldefinitelybe thinking of you when I get in bed.”
Ten minutes later, when my hand is between my legs, I shiver at the memory—and promise—of the low groan Wes lets out just before the door shuts.
Chapter Fourteen
I sleep like the deadand wake to Wes pounding on my door, already dressed and excitement sparking in his eyes. “Refresh came out twenty minutes ago.” He shoves his iPad under my nose, zoomed in to the Storm Prediction Center’s tornado forecast for northern Kansas. “Fifteen-hatched. Get dressed.”
He slides his hand around the back of my neck, pulls me in for a hard, minty kiss that reignites last night’s spark, and then just as quickly lets go with a soft noise of regret. His hand slips down to toy with the thin strap of my tank top. “And now I’m going to get us coffee before the sight of you like this makes me forget what a tornado is.”
Not even a fifteen-hatched—a 15 percent chance of tornadoes within twenty-five miles of any given spot in the area, with an even greater chance some of them will be strong—wakes me up enough to process his level of energy. I blink a few times, mumble a semi-coherent reply, and shuffle back into my room to stumble through getting dressed. In a vainattempt to wake up, I splash ice-cold water on my face. I’m not sure that accomplishes much beyond making me shiver.
“Oh thank god,” I mutter when Wes is standing outside the elevator in the lobby with a giant cup of coffee. “Gimme.”
He laughs, trading me the coffee and taking my heavy camera bag before tucking me into his side. I’m tired enough that I lean into him without thought and take a long sip before I notice our audience. A dozen chasers are spread out across the lobby’s seating area with their breakfasts, laptops, and iPads. It’s not exactly unexpected given the forecast and how few hotels are out this way—but I wasn’t thinking about that in my half-asleep delirium.
I freeze with the coffee cup halfway to my mouth, the not-at-all quiet whispers surrounding us.
Pay up. I told you they were fucking.
She’s just trying to get an in withNature Shots. Everyone knows Wes is going to win.
Another chick screwing her way to the top.
