Chase Me If You Can(47)
Was it just pity? Another of his games? It felt real. It sounded real when he murmured darlin’ over my skin like a prayer.
The amount of energy I’m putting into this particular thought spiral over his motivations is exactly why I’ve avoided what happened last night for so long.
Determined to carry on like normal, I yawn my way through getting dressed and, one quick google later, find a local café with decent reviews. I load up on coffee, breakfast sandwiches, and a couple of pastries for the road, and then text Wes for his room number once I’m back in the hotel parking lot.
My mind blanks when he opens the door wearing only a towel and a smirk. “Just got out of the shower,” he says unnecessarily, water droplets clinging to his chest and disappearing into the towel clutched at his hip. There’s a faint line of ink peeking out just above the towel, another tattoo I haven’t seen yet.
“Breakfast.” The one-word greeting is all I can manage with a desert in my throat before jerking out the hand holding his coffee.
The sight of Wes, ink shimmering on his wet skin, grinning at me before taking a sip of coffee and letting out a little satisfied groan, should be illegal. Especially after leaving me with the mental image of him taking care of himself last night. I’m a case of arson in the making if the heat in my cheeks is anything to go by.
“Unless you want to be breakfast, I’m goin’ to need you to stop lookin’ at me like that,” he says in a lazy, exaggerated drawl that reminds me far too much of last night.
Only half paying attention, I follow a water droplet as it sinks down, down, down his chest and abdomen. Maybe I wouldn’t mind returning last night’s favor.
“Sloane.” It’s more of a growl than my name and far sexier than it has any right to be.
I jerk my eyes up. “You’re the one who answered the door like that.” I slip past the open bathroom door to perch on the edge of the unmade bed. “Could have at least put on some damn pants.”
Wes is still laughing when he steps into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked. “How’s the morning refresh looking?”
I take a sip of my coffee and double check the forecast on my phone, something in me easing at how normal he’s acting. Maybe he really did mean it last night that he wasn’t expecting anything in return. “Decent,” I call back, willing my body to settle.
Whatever may or may not be happening between us, I can’t let it interfere. I’ve spent far too many years watching my mom drop everything else in her life for the sake of a man. I’ll be damned if I turn into her now. In fact, what I should do is tell Wes in no uncertain terms that last night was a mistake.
But then he emerges from the bathroom, unreasonably attractive in a pair of hiking shorts that show off the high curve of his ass and a snug black T-shirt. He props himself up in the doorframe and continues to rub his hair with the towel. “Still thinking Kansas?”
“Somewhere between Dodge City and Wichita is probably our best bet.”
“We can grab lunch in Dodge and decide from there. Could get crowded today.”
I make a face, but he’s right. There’s a higher-than-usual chance of tornadoes in the area we’re targeting. Combine that with a good road network and fairly flat elevation, and a chaser convergence is all but guaranteed. Navigating around a hundred other chasers is less than ideal and can quickly turn dangerous, but it’s also the kind of forecast that might get me something Nature Shots worthy.
Wes tosses the towel into the bathroom and prowls over, holding out his hand. He pulls me easily to my feet when I take it and instantly wraps me in his arms. “Forgot to say good morning,” he breathes into my ear before lowering his mouth to mine.
Despite the confident way he moves in, there’s the slightest hesitation before his lips touch mine. Maybe I’m not the only one with questions, which weirdly helps me relax. I give in to the pleasure of the kiss, melting into him as it deepens into white-hot need. It’s as if the years we’ve spent bickering have been a kind of foreplay building in the background, and now that we’ve broken the seal, all that pent-up desire is rushing out.
Not that we have time to indulge in it right now.
Squeezing the dip of my waist with a rueful grin, Wes reluctantly lets go. “We should get on the road.”
I grab my coffee and nod with an awkward jerk of my head. “We can eat in the car,” I say, refusing to look at the bed and all the bad but wonderful ideas it represents.
“Good idea.” I’m not the only one a little breathless. Wes shoves his hands in his pockets, almost as if he needs to physically prevent himself from reaching for me.
“Sloane,” he calls when I’ve got my hand on the door, one foot already in the hallway. He waits until I turn to look at him, grins his wicked grin, and gestures to my—his—sweatshirt. “You look good in my clothes.”
* * *
By the time we roll into Dodge City, we’re far from the only chasers in town. I try to hide my excitement when I spot a few of the research trucks with their distinctive government agency logos and roofs full of equipment parked near the back of the gas station we pull into.
“Always a good sign when those guys are in the area.” Wes pumps a fist in the air before grabbing his phone. “Let me see if anyone I know is around.”