The spray hit August’s back as he stood in the hotel room shower. They’d made it to Twin Falls, Idaho, and they needed rest. They had a ten-hour drive tomorrow, and he couldn’t do that on only the few hours’ sleep he’d gotten that morning.
Shutting off the water, he grabbed a fluffy white towel and then dried himself. It’d taken a lot of self-control not to jerk off in the shower, and the lack of release made him hesitant to leave the bathroom.
Gigi was waiting to order room service, so he knew she was still awake. And dammit, he hadn’t been able to get two beds this time. Some kind of convention in town meant few vacancies, and he wasn’t going to search every hotel.
After stepping into briefs then jogging pants, he pulled a plain white T-shirt over his head. He could do this. All he had to do was not kiss or touch Gigi. By this time tomorrow, their living arrangements would be different. He’d still be with her, because there was nowhere else he could allow himself to be until she was safe, but he’d have more control over the bedroom situation.
One night of hell. That’s it. Pumping his brain with that pep talk, he exited the bathroom. Gigi was curled on the bed, fluffy pillows around her and the room-service menu in hand. She wore black leggings that surrounded her thighs like sin and an oversized deep-blue sweatshirt with the name of a football team scrawled on the front.
“Anything good?” he asked.
“Mmm.” She chewed her lip. “Everything looks good. It’s expensive though.”
He shrugged. “Room service usually is. Just order whatever you want. It’s late.” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand—10:02 p.m. “And I want to be on the road bright and early.”
She twisted her face. “I have a feeling your idea of bright and early and my idea of bright and early are two different things.”
He chortled. That he didn’t doubt. From their weeks together two years ago, he knew she rarely shuffled out of the bedroom before 7:30 a.m., whereas he was always up before 6:00 a.m. “How about we leave before we get killed, sound good?”
She hooked her lip. “Nachos sound better.”
He grinned. Damn, he loved her quick wit. “Make it a double platter and get me a burger and fries.”
Her eyes rounded, accentuating her long dark lashes and hazel eyes. “Famished or what?”
His cock twitched. “Famished.”
She shrugged and reached for the phone on the nightstand. Christ, he was going to need a drink—or another shower and a little self-love—to make it through the night.
* * *
Gigi sucked salsa off her fingers, not giving a damn if it made her look unladylike. Shoving away her plate, she watched August dive in for another handful of fries. He swiped the salty strips through a dollop of ketchup before popping them in his mouth.
“You sure you don’t want to order dessert?” he said, nodding at the menu next to them.
Gigi shook her head. “I’d explode. Besides,” she said with a yawn, bringing her hand to her mouth, “I’m too tired.”
August nodded then collected their plates and put the tray in the hallway. He strode easily around the room, as if being so close to her didn’t affect him at all. Well, every once in a while his eyes would slide over her body and make her cheeks warm, but did that count?
Meanwhile, her thighs tightened just from admiring how his muscles carried his body effortlessly. He hadn’t shaved his stubble and she was glad. He looked good clean-shaven, but the bristles on his jaw made him look more rugged and mmm-mmm delicious.
She ached to drag her fingers over his jaw, seal her lips to his, and wrap her legs around his waist. God, he’d delivered in bed. Like really, really delivered.
“Ready for bed?” His words echoed her thoughts but had a painfully different meaning.
She stood from the dinette table and her belly tightened. She’d probably been staring like a dog in heat. “Yeah, just need to wash up.” She went to the bathroom and shut the door, knotting her fingers into the roots of her hair.
This was nuts. She couldn’t sleep next to August. Hell, she could hardly even look at him without stepping on her tongue.
She also didn’t have pajamas.
Closing her eyes, she drew in a breath. Okay, no biggie. She’d just have to sleep in the clothes she had for tomorrow. She quickly brushed her teeth and used the bathroom then returned to the bedroom.
August was already in the sheets, one arm bent behind his head and his other hand resting on top of the fluffy down duvet. The contrast of his tanned skin against the white blanket made her mouth go dry. Swallowing, she made her way to her side of the bed and peeled back the covers.
He tilted his head her way and cocked an eyebrow. “You’re sleeping in your clothes?”
All the blood drained from her face as she stared at his bare chest. Her heart pitter-pattered and her mind worked a mile a minute. “Um . . . yeah. Aren’t you?”
His brow furrowed. “I mean don’t you have anything else to wear?”
Her cheeks flamed. She was an idiot. He wasn’t asking her to sleep naked. He was asking if she had sleep attire. If she weren’t scrounging for dignity, she’d have palmed her forehead. “Uh, well, no. Considering I’m on the run with only a tiny bag, I don’t exactly have many clothing options.”
Offense was the best defense. Maybe her comment would distract him from the fact that she’d thought he wanted her to sleep naked.
His brow smoothed with realization. “Shit. Sorry. We should’ve stopped to get you some things.”
She lifted a shoulder and climbed in the bed. “It’s fine.”
He sat up. The blankets pooled around his waist as he leaned toward the chair next to the bed. He grabbed his T-shirt and tossed it to her. “I only wore it for an hour or so.”
As she held the soft cotton, the scent of spicy lime surrounded her. Oh, yeah. She’d be in heaven sleeping in this. “You sure?”
“Yup. I’ve got two other shirts with me.”
Climbing out of the bed, she went back to the bathroom and stripped down then fit the material over her head. Oh, lord. Her muscles turned to liquid. It was still warm from his body heat. If she couldn’t have August, she’d make do with his shirt. She caught her reflection in the mirror.
Her nipples poked against the thin fabric. The hem came down to midthigh. As long as she didn’t bend over, her intimates were covered. It was too bad he didn’t have any extra underwear for her because the ones she was wearing were thoroughly wet with need.
Good grief, I need to get laid.
She gave herself a mental kick in the ass. No, she most certainly didn’t need to get laid. Or at least not in this hotel and not with this man.
Her fingers would have to suffice when and if she got a moment alone. Huffing a breath, she left the bathroom much quicker than before and practically dove under the sheets.
Desire and turmoil shook her hands as she yanked the covers over her torso a little too roughly and dropped back on the pillow.
August gave her the side eye. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just tired.” That’d be true if tired were the new horny.
He leaned over, revealing his broad, muscular back, and clicked off the light. Darkness filled the space, and the hum of the heat kicking on was the only sound in the room. Gigi lay flat on her back, her hands pressed to the duvet.
August was so damn large that the warmth emanating from his body thawed her chilled skin. Ever so slowly, she turned her head in his direction. A narrow shaft of streetlight streamed through the parted curtains.
Every urge thrumming through her body begged her to curl close to him. Memories assaulted her. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She closed her eyes as heat spread through her at the recollection of how his arm had folded her in close, his large palm heavy on her hip and his abs solid beneath her forearm.
God, she’d do anything to feel that right now. To just be held. After everything she’d gone through, she just wanted to be physically close to someone. She chewed her lip and fought the urge doubling inside her chest. Her pulse whacked against her eardrums and dread slithered beneath her skin.
Odds were, he wouldn’t push her away . . .
The sound of August’s steady, even breathing made disappointment rip through her. If he could fall asleep that easily lying next to her, he definitely wasn’t experiencing the same struggle. Hurt blossomed in her heart, but she pushed it away and rolled to her side.
It’s for the best.
* * *
August woke from a fitful sleep and glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 5:23 a.m. He stifled a groan and combed his fingers through his hair. His cock hurt with every movement. The traitorous appendage had kept him up all night.
Or rather, Gigi had.
Last night he’d taken his newfound cowardly ways to a whole new level and pretended he was sleeping. If the guys at Backcountry Protection Services knew what a loser he was, he’d never live it down. Not that he talked about his sex life with them, and he sure as hell wouldn’t talk about his lack of a sex life either, but he’d definitely get a ribbing if anyone found out he’d evened out his breath so she’d go to sleep.
He regretted it. Royally. He let his gaze roam over her face. She’d turned away from him shortly after getting into bed, but at some point she’d ended up facing him. Her lips were pouty and pressed together gently. Her brow was slightly furrowed and her hand pillowed her cheek.
A few times during the night her fingers had skimmed his shoulder or side, as if she were unconsciously making sure he was there. Once, he’d squeezed her hand, and part of him had hoped she’d wake up. That she’d slide close to him and he could do what he’d been wanting to do ever since he left on that damn mission two years ago—kiss her.
And tell her he was sorry.
He wished he’d told her to wait for him while he finished his mission, that he’d see her when he got back and they could figure things out. But at the time, he hadn’t been able to wrap his head around falling for a woman so fast and hard.
A woman who still held his beating heart in her delicate palm.
Swallowing the agony in his throat, he reached over and brushed her hair from her temple. So pretty. Jesus. She inhaled a shaky breath, and for a second he thought she’d catch him staring at her and he could stop pretending that he didn’t still want her. That their history didn’t kill him every fucking second.
Instead, she sighed and melted deeper into her pillow. Once again, he wished he’d talked to her last night. Or done anything but fake sleep.
He’d only done it to protect her. And maybe to make things easier on himself too. Gigi was a dangerous one to get caught up with. To her, he hadn’t been worth the wait. And she hadn’t wasted any time meeting her ex-fiancé, Todd, and moving in with him and getting engaged.
Todd had turned out to be a scumbag, but he’d been a wealthy sonofabitch. Not that Gigi was the gold-digging type. Still, August’s bank account was probably a couple of figures smaller than Todd’s.
Well, not now that Todd’s assets had been seized.
Getting out of bed, he cast Gigi a glance. Soon she’d be with her sister and wouldn’t need his support.
He went to the bathroom, showered and brushed his teeth, then put on jeans, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. When he returned to the bedroom, he found that Gigi hadn’t moved beneath the pile of blankets. August felt a tug in his chest. Unable to resist, he walked to the bed. A line creased the smooth skin of Gigi’s forehead. Whatever she was dreaming about seemed to be causing her distress. He was quickly reminded of why the hell they were in this hotel the first place. “Gigi,” he said softly.
The channel in her brow deepened.
“Honey—” Shit. The endearment had slipped from his lips like ice cream from a kid’s cone. He cleared his throat. “Hey, we’ve gotta go.”
She inhaled deeply as her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze landed on the empty spot next to her in the bed then climbed up his body to meet his face.
“Morning, sunshine.” He couldn’t have stopped the smile tipping up his lips if he’d tried. She looked so cute and cozy it took everything in him not to crawl back into bed with her and do all the things he hadn’t allowed himself to do last night.
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “What time is it?”
“Almost six. If you want to shower, I suggest you get in there now because I’m leaving in fifteen minutes.”
She groaned, and her arm flopped to the pillow. “You’re so mean.”
He snagged her wrist and tugged. “Come on, before I throw you into a cold shower dressed like that.”
“You’re such a jerk,” she said, without venom. But she must’ve known he wasn’t kidding because she tossed back the blankets and swung her lean, toned legs over the side of the bed. She stood with her back to him and stretched. The hem of his shirt inched up, and if he were less of a gentleman, he would’ve leaned down for a view of her luscious ass cheeks.
She dropped her arms, taking the temptation with them. Padding barefoot over the carpet, she moved around him and entered the bathroom. The door clicked shut and a second later, he heard water running in the shower.
On the other side of the door, she’d be stripping. Desire smoldered inside him. Jesus Christ, he needed to get Gigi to Ivy and Rami. His resolve was slipping. His brain kept wanting to snap back to the ease of being with Gigi two years ago. It was like muscle memory.
Back then, he wouldn’t have thought twice about following her into the shower, wrapping her legs around his waist, and taking her beneath the warm spray. Every instinct told him to do that now. And he’d never fought his instincts. Never turned away from his inner voice. But listening to the lust-fueled words now would only get him in trouble.
Both of them, in fact.
Because his being distracted from keeping her safe could be the death of her. He had to stay vigilant, keep them moving, and remain one step ahead of the cartel at all times.
He busied himself packing, and ten minutes later Gigi walked out of the bathroom in her last set of clean clothes. “Ready when you are.” She quickly combed her wet hair into a ponytail and wiggled her feet into her shoes. With her hair pulled off her makeup-free face and her clothes hugging every sweet curve, she’d make the jaw of every guy, from Twin Falls to Seattle, drop.
He’d probably have to kill more than one motherfucker.
Shit, he had it bad.