“What? Tell me.”
“No. You’ll think it’s dumb, and you’ll make fun of me.”
“Try me.”
She sighed. “I want someone to look at me the way my dad looks at my mom. I mean, you can tell when they’re in a room together that she’s everything to him. He doesn’t even have to say it.”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking about my parents. “My mom and dad are like that too. But I think it’s rare.”
“It’s almost worse, knowing that kind of love exists, but worrying you’ll never find it. Like maybe if I hadn’t seen it in real life, I’d think it was only in fairy tales and I’d be willing to settle for less.” She shrugged. “But I’ve seen it. And that’s what I want.”
“I hope you find it. Ready for the next question?”
“Wait, I have to use the bathroom first, and we need more wine.” She got off the bed and tightened the blanket around her.
I tipped up the last few drops in my glass. “Okay, you go to the bathroom and I’ll get the wine.”
She waddled over to the window like a pig in a blanket at IHOP and elbowed the curtain aside. “Wow. It’s still coming down. It’s pretty, though.”
I walked over to the window. Standing right behind her, I caught the scent of her hair again. It looked so soft and warm, I had the urge to bury my face in it. Or maybe take it in my hands and push it aside so I could press my lips to the back of her neck. I’d done that once before . . . did she remember? The crotch of my jeans started to get tight.
“God, it doesn’t even look real, does it?” she whispered in awe.
I forced myself to look out the glass. “No. It doesn’t.”
Everything was covered in white—the cars in the lot, the pavement, the trees, the neon sign. It was eerie.
“Do you think we’ll get out of here by morning?” Ellie asked.
“We’ll try.” Right now I was more worried about making it through the night next to her in that small bed and keeping my hands to myself.
Letting the curtain close, she spun to face me, her eyes worried. “What if we don’t?”
“We’ll be okay no matter what.”
“But what about work? Desmond could cover for me at the winery, but who’s going to—”
“Hush.” I put my finger on her lips. “We’ll figure it out.”
She nodded, but I didn’t take my finger off her mouth. Instead, I thought about the way she’d sucked the melted butter off my thumb earlier tonight, and my cock swelled even more. Her lips fell open slightly, but a second later she pushed my hand away. “Move.”
I stepped aside and she shuffled past me, still trying to keep that stupid blanket wrapped around her. But no sooner had the door shut than it opened again, and she walked out, tossed the plaid blanket on the bed, and faced me, hands on her hips. “I give up. This is what I look like without pants on.”
The hem of my sweater hit her mid-thigh and she still wore her hedgehog socks, so the only bare skin visible was from her shins to just above her knees.
“Is that what you’re going to wear in the velvet blimp?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I might change my mind and ask for some compensation. Those socks are not sexy.”
But as soon as the bathroom door shut behind her, I had to adjust the growing bulge in my pants and take a few deep breaths.
I could handle this, right? I could lie next to her on that tiny little mattress and go to sleep. I could breathe through my mouth so I wouldn’t smell her. I could face the opposite direction so I wouldn’t see her. I could put the pillow over my head so I wouldn’t hear her breathe. I could pin my hands between my knees to keep them from wandering over to her side. It might be the greatest test of willpower in all my life, and I’d probably only earn a C, possibly a C-, but I could pass it.
Except then she came out of the bathroom with her blouse balled up in her hands, and when she tossed it onto the table by the window, her black bra flew out and landed on the floor.
“Wait, we’re allowed to remove undergarments?” I asked in mock surprise. “Does that mean I can ditch my boxer briefs?”
“Only if they have underwire.” She quickly scooped up the bra and stuffed it into her shoulder bag.
“They do not.”
“Then keep them on.” She sat on the bed again and rummaged through the snack pile. “What’s our second bottle of wine? I’ll find something to pair it with.”