Page 41 of Reckless Woman
We’re somewhere close to Haines City on the outskirts of Orlando. After hitting a couple of minor towns, we see a roadside motel with vacancies.
“There,” he says, pointing.
Pulling into the parking lot, I kill the engine. “I’ll go get us a room key.”
I’m reaching for the handle when I feel a heavy hand on my arm.
“I’ll do it.”
I lift my brows in dispute. “Since I’m the only one of us whodoesn’tlook like a filthy fugitive, I’ll go.”
He glares at me, and then he’s grabbing me by the neck and pulling me close. “You have no fucking idea how filthy I really am,” he murmurs, his sexy-as-heck declaration warming my already overheated skin. “But I’m in the mood to show you.”
“You can start with a bath,” I whisper, feeling the hunger and possession in his touch and fighting the urge to climb him like a tree.
“Pay cash. Be nice.” He lets go of me, frowning as he hands over a wad of tens and twenties. He hates this dynamic. There’s only one person in the world he takes orders from, and it’s not me.
“I’m always nice,” I say, exiting the Corolla with a smile. “Are you going to watch my ass as I walk away?”
He leans across the transmission to smolder me up with another look. “Damn straight I’ll be watching. That ass is my dinner.”
Summer honeysuckle grows thick around my fears.
“At least your sleep didn’t shrink your hard-on.”
“If you’re longer than five minutes in reception, you’ll be finding out either way.”
* * *
Our room isa bad seventies pastiche with a twist of neglect. There’s way too much wood paneling and the cream fringing around the lampshades is patchy and fraying. It’s also cold-as-hell, which is a good sign that the air conditioning works.
Joseph is limping worse than ever, but I’m too scared to ask why. As we cross the threshold, he’s carrying a large bottle of vodka and a medikit he took from the trunk. Kicking the door shut and fixing the bolt, he pulls the curtains together and chucks everything onto the nightstand.
“Take a shower,” he orders, brushing my temple with a kiss.
I watch him pick up the empty ice bucket and slam it down next to his supplies. His gun follows.
“Let me help you.”
“No need. I can loop stitches like a pro.”
“Do you need to see a doctor?”
Stupid question. Of course, he needs to see a damn doctor.
He fights a smirk as he unbuckles his belt. “Thanks for the offer, Nurse Williams, but I got stitched up pretty good yesterday. This is a clean-up job. I busted one in the diner earlier.”
Some balled up emotion inside me expands and fills. I walk over to him and throw my arms around his neck—wanting his sweat, his strength, his mysteries.
“Don’t die,” I mutter, pressing the side of my face into his chest, scratching my cheek on his shirt buttons. I hide my vulnerability well, but when he busted the lock to my first cage, he busted them all. Since my mother died when I was sixteen, I’ve pretty much been on my own. I only had Eve, until I had him.
He stills, and then his arms come crashing around me. “Not today. Not yesterday. I’m here for as long as you want me.”
“I think I want you forever.” I reach for his belt to finish the job, unhooking his top button and unzipping his jeans. “What about you?” I don’t look at him as I say it. His face is a mask, and I’d hate for this to be the first time it cracks. “Is this marriage whatyou really want?”
Wrapping his fist around the ends of my blonde hair, he tugs my head back to scorch me with his gaze. “The things I want,Luna?” he says with a growl. “They’re things that a man like me shouldneverwant.”
“Like what?” I whisper.