Page 31 of Slick Trip

He pointed at the nightstand. “Only one lamp.”

“That’s normal.”

He grinned, clearly finding himself quite a comedian. “Only one front door.”

“You’re overcommitting to the bit,” I said, but I was smiling.

I opened the mini fridge. “One water bottle.”

“I need hydration,” Cooper said immediately, lunging for it. The blanket and towel tangled around him, slowing him down. I twisted the cap and took a sip before handing it to him.

He stared at the bottle. Then at me.

“It has Jon bacteria.”

“Drink the water, Coop.”

He did. I tried not to stare at his throat bobbing when he swallowed, but failed miserably. He noticed. Slowly, he lowered the bottle.

“We shared a bottle,” he said, stepping closer.

“Yes.” I stepped back.

He looked at my mouth.

“That was basically kissing.”

Why the fuck was I so flustered?

“That is not how kissing works.”

“Indirectly, it is,” he said, his voice a soft, dizzy murmur. “I wasn’t prepared for this level of hydration intimacy.”

I rubbed my temples. “This trip is going to kill me.”

“Not as fast as your bacteria is going to kill me.” He sat on the bed and gave me the brattiest little smirk. “Death by Jon bacteria. Not a bad way to go, to be honest.”

My lips twitched.

I didn’t know if he had any idea what he did to me. If it had even occurred to him how badly I wanted to throw him on the bed and worship every inch of his body.

Obviously I didn’t do that.

I brushed my teeth instead.

* * *

Cooper’s breathing slowed almost immediately, like his body had simply decided it was done for the day. I was starting to suspect his secondary gender was breaking through, but I didn’t want to dwell on that. This trip was already a fucking minefield.

I stared at the ceiling. The motel room was quiet except for the distant buzz of a vending machine outside. And Cooper’s breathing. His smell was so strong now. It was everywhere—in the sheets, in the air, in my lungs—slowly driving me insane.

I turned my head slightly.

He was lying on his side, one arm tucked under his cheek, soft breaths warming the pillow. The blanket had slipped, exposing the pale, tempting curve of his shoulder, and he was clutching that damn towel like it was a lifeline.

He looked—

I drew a jagged breath. For once, I let myself admit it. He looked like the sweetest thing. The most beautiful, fragile thing I’d ever been allowed to touch. A masterpiece I was terrified I’d already broken.