Chapter 12 Jenny
JENNY
Iwake up to hotel blankets tangled around my legs, the threat of a headache lurking at my temples, and light blue paint on the wall in front of me.
It has several stains of dubious origin, and I roll over onto my other side instead of thinking about it.
As soon as my eyes adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the gaps in the curtains, I notice an overlarge form huddled on the couch.
I shoot up from the bed, frantically feeling for my clothes, eyes locked on Lucas’s head.
Memories from last night come rushing back, and I groan at the sudden onslaught. As if going on this impromptu trip wasn’t stressful enough, now I have to tear Lucas a new one over his treatment of Elias last night.
I debate stomping over to him and waking him up with a healthy dose of screaming, but I get a whiff of myself when I shift. My clothes reek of whiskey and sweat, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
Shower first, yell at Lucas second. I can let him have an extra twenty minutes of sleep as a thank you for not making me crash in the hallway after punching him.
I stumble into the bathroom and tear the disposable toothbrush from its plastic packaging to brush the worst of the stale taste from my teeth.
Lucas’s toothpaste does me plenty of good, but I’d give anything to gargle mouthwash for about half an hour.
The hot water is fucking magic when I strip down and step into the shower.
After most of a day spent in the truck, and then a night getting spun around by Elias on the dance floor, my entire body aches.
Surprisingly, my head isn’t killing me, and I’m not nauseous, even after drinking half the bar. Elias probably switched half my shots out for water, mother hen that he is. I’ll have to call him once I’m done chewing Lucas out to make sure his face is still in one piece.
I take a thorough shower, scrubbing dried sweat off my skin with the hotel body wash. It’s not until I get out and drape myself in a towel that I realize the fatal flaw in my plan.
This isn’t my room. I couldn’t get into my room last night.
Which means that all I have to wear are my filthy clothes from last night until I can get back into my room.
I hate the thought of it, but it’s better than nothing, so I steel myself at the thought.
And then I see them, nudged in a pile by the toilet, soaking wet.
Fuck.
I was too desperate to shower to make sure I closed the curtain entirely, and now they’re nothing but a pile of sodden fabric. There goes that plan.
Which means I have to walk out into the room, where Lucas is, in nothing but a towel.
Double fuck.
With any luck, he’ll still be asleep, and I can snag a bathrobe or something to make the trip down to the lobby and get back into my room. It’ll be fine.
It’s not fine.
When I step out of the bathroom, towel clutched tight around my body, Lucas is very obviously awake.
He’s sitting up on the couch, shoulders tense, haloed by the weak sunlight.
His hair is rumpled, blond strands in a messy waterfall across the tops of his shoulders, and I can make out the slightest marks on his cheek from sleeping on his balled up sweatshirt.
Triple fuck.
“I feel like an ass for last night,” he says, keeping his eyes firmly planted between his feet.
Standing here in nothing but a towel doesn’t really feel like the best way to have this conversation, but Lucas isn’t exactly giving me a choice. At least he’s keeping his eyes to himself. “You definitely acted like one.”
He winces, but doesn’t look up. His hands clench tight over his knees, and his lips thin in obvious displeasure. For once, though, it seems like it’s all directed at himself. Maybe he’s finally figuring out how to reflect on his actions.
Highly likely.
“I’m sorry.” The words sound like they come out through his teeth, but they sound genuine, at least. “I didn’t recognize him, and I thought he was just some random guy who was trying to take advantage of you.
I wasn’t trying to stake any sort of claim or get all macho on you.
If I had known, I wouldn’t have hit him, or caused a scene, I swear.
I apologized to him last night, but you deserve an apology, too. ”
I blink at him, surprised that he’s even capable of thinking up a proper apology, much less actually putting his ego aside to say it out loud. Elias probably laid into him last night, but it’s a bit shocking that he actually took any of it to heart.
“You owe Elias more than an apology,” I say in lieu of accepting his words. “If he has any medical bills, you’re paying them.”
“Fair enough,” Lucas says with a shrug. “I shouldn’t have—oh, you’re not dressed.”
His eyes widen comically when he finally looks up at me, unadulterated surprise flicking across his face.
His gaze tracks a bead of water dripping down my throat toward my collarbones.
I feel it reach the edge of my towel at the same time he snaps his eyes back up to mine, and I stop myself from shivering at the heat in them by sheer will.
I’m probably just as flushed as he is, but at least I have the excuse of the shower to blame.
He’s got nothing to blame aside for the filthy thoughts that I can see on his face.
I can only pretend like I’m not thinking the exact same things, and I fully intend to do that. Pretend, I mean.
“My clothes are next door.” I mean for it to come out annoyed, but my voice is far softer than I expect.
I glance into the open closet across from me, wincing when I don’t see any bathrobes.
The room feels suffocatingly small all of a sudden, like the walls are closing in as Lucas’s eyes keep flitting to every inch of bare skin exposed by the towel.
“Just let me borrow a shirt from you and I’ll go down and get a new key card. ”
I won’t have pants, but I have no doubt that his clothes will dwarf me. His shirt will probably hang all the way down to my knees. It’ll be enough for a short trip to the lobby, even if the thought of wearing his clothes has heat building in my gut that I don’t want to pay any attention to.
“No way, I’ll go get it,” he argues, pushing up from the couch.
The room shrinks another several feet with every step he takes toward me. My body betrays me, excitement rushing through my veins as he gets closer.
“Can you just not fight me this once?” I snap, my heart rate skyrocketing as he steadily closes the distance between us. “Just give me a shirt, I don’t need your help.”
“Sorry for not wanting you to wander around the hotel half-naked,” he bites back. “Stop being difficult, I’m trying to be nice.”
Lucas places one callused hand on my bicep, probably intending to move me out of the way, but I grab him by the wrist and refuse to let him move.
He looks down at me, that stupidly handsome face creased in frustration.
Our height difference is even more pronounced so close, and I can smell the lingering traces of his woodsy cologne.
My restraint snaps.
I twist my hand in the collar of his shirt and drag him down into a kiss, just like I’ve been fantasizing about doing since that night in the barn.
He meets me without hesitation, all annoyance and need and demanding swipes of his tongue.
I shiver against him as he crowds me back against the wall, his massive frame caging me in.
It’s a near perfect mirror of last time — except now, I’m not pretending that I don’t want it.
I’m the one making this happen, because I’m desperate for it.
He pulls back to say something, but I yank him back in and slip my tongue between his lips. I swallow the moan that rumbles up his throat and tangle my other hand in his hair, yanking him impossibly closer. The towel slips free to pool between my back and the wall, no longer hiding a damn thing.
“Jenny,” Lucas gasps against my mouth, halfheartedly trying to pull away even as his hands find my hips, skin against skin. “Fuck, what—”
“Shut up,” I say, somewhere between annoyed and fond. “Stop me if you don’t want it.”
“Like hell I don’t want it.” He yanks me against his chest and leans down to slot our lips together as he pivots and leads us back toward the rumpled bed. “Wanted to bend you over since I saw you yelling at your dad when you got back.”
“Don’t bring my dad up, dumbass.”
He laughs and pushes me back, watching hungrily as I land on the mattress.
I let my momentum carry me backwards to lay on my back, legs parted just far enough to tease without giving him a full view.
Blue eyes rove over every inch of exposed skin, and the heat of his gaze on me is so much better than I’ve let myself imagine.
I drag my foot up his jean clad thigh just to see him shake a little.
“Fucking tease,” he says with a snarl, although the way he rips himself out of his clothes tells me he doesn’t have an issue with it. “Been flaunting this pretty little body right in my face since I got back. The things I want to do to you…”
God, he’s so unfairly hot. Nothing but corded muscle and perfectly tanned skin and blatant need, and it’s all for me. I think I might drool.
“No one’s stopping you,” I say with a grin as he shucks his jeans and boxers in one movement. “Do your worst, Cross.”
He shoves my thighs open, hands gripping tight enough to bruise as he yanks me to the edge of the bed.
He’s achingly hard already, his cock twitching and dripping precum like a fucking fountain.
For a moment, I think he might just throw my legs over his shoulders and slide right in—and I’m tempted to let him, well aware of how drenched I am despite the fact he’s barely touched me.
He seems intent on surprising me, though, because he drops to his knees between my legs and buries his face in my pussy before I can so much as blink.
“Fuck!” I shout, shooting up from the bed at the first touch of his tongue. “Fucking Christ, warn a girl next—”