Chapter 12 Amy #2
Now that I’m alone in my Pontiac again, I feel weird. Turns out it wasn’t so bad having Lewis riding shotgun, after all. In fact, it was kind of nice—though he probably thinks I’m a complete shit show at this point.
When my phone starts to ring five minutes later, the name flashing up on my screen makes me grin despite myself.
Who are you, and what have you done with Amy?
“What’s the problem, Conley?” I ask, keeping my voice as level as I can.
“No problem. Just letting you know I’m right behind you.”
I glance in the mirror.
“I’ve been waiting by the roadside since forever. What took you so long? Everything okay?”
Oh, everything’s fine. Just an ex I find super triggering, but other than that…
“All good with me!” I chirp. “So, you’re just gonna tailgate me to the motel? Is that the situation?”
“Yup. Wanna race?”
I laugh. “I think I’ve had my fix for today.”
“Seriously, Amy,” he starts. “Thank you so much for—”
“Nope!” I cut him short. “Don’t wanna hear it.”
I hate thank-yous almost as much as I hate gifts and singing cartoon characters. It’s like I just don’t know what to do with them.
“You don’t want to hear all my awkward thank-yous?”
Got it in one.
“Wanna chat while we drive?” he tries.
“Double nope.”
I can practically hear him smiling. “I like a woman who knows what she doesn’t need.”
“What this woman needs right now is music.”
And to get my breathing under control before I crash. The way his voice is booming out of my speakers like this is too much to handle. Images of his mouth go flashing by—his lips on mine, his tongue against mine, his…
I clench my thighs and hang up, and when I catch him laughing in the rearview mirror, I crank up the volume.
Anything to get myself back under control.
My heart sinks. Spending a second night together in a single bedroom is definitely not going to help things.
So how come I’m secretly hoping the guy at the front desk will say there’s only one room available—and it just happens to have the world’s smallest bed?
We drive the three hours from Brooklyn to Deodate, pulling into the motel at the same time.
Lewis is still smiling as he follows me inside, and I can tell it’s not going to take much for me to crack.
I mean, I just spent the whole drive here picturing him naked in my bed—if he grins at me like that one more time, he’s going to end up with his T-shirt in shreds and bite marks all over his chest…
Enough, already!
I listen as he deals with the receptionist, my heart skipping a beat when he asks the guy for a shared room, like that’s normal for us. I don’t know whether my raging hormones are playing tricks on me, but it feels like Lewis is standing closer than normal—like he keeps sneaking glances at me, too.
We get led to the same room we had yesterday, which is good news for Lewis. It opens right onto the parking lot.
I drop my bag by the foot of the bed and perch on the mattress, easing off my shoes while Lewis shrugs off his coat and sneakers. He peeks out the window, and I get it—it’s going to take him a while to feel comfortable letting the Dodge out of his sight again.
“Don’t tell me you’re planning on spending all night on lookout? Because the chances of it getting stolen a second time in three days are pretty slim.”
“That would be one hell of a disgrace.” He nods. “But you never know…”
He turns back to the parking lot, and I can’t tear my eyes away. Jocks have never been my thing, but Lewis’s body is fine as hell, especially with that tee clinging to his shoulders and arms, the way his ass… Oh my God—stop.
I rub my eyes and fall back onto the bed. I should’ve gone harder on Tyler—punched my way through all this pent-up energy.
I can hear Lewis’s footsteps draw nearer as he pads over to join me.
Did he just clear his throat?
I bet he’s staring at me right now; I bet he’s checking out my bare midriff, wondering what it would be like to lick his way down my… Stop it, Amy!
I keep my eyes shut tight, and it takes him a while to break the silence.
“So… You wanna shower first?”
“Excuse me?” I scramble up onto my elbows.
“Do you want to shower first, or should I?”
Oh…
“I think I’ll grab a drink first.”
I nod at the chips and vodka we picked up today.
There go my clean-eating plans. I’m glad he thought to pick up some booze, though, because that’s exactly what I need.
I lean over and swipe it up, cracking open the cap and swigging straight from the bottle, coughing on the burn as it slips down my throat.
Holding the chips out to Lewis, I dive in for a second gulp, watching him watch me as I swallow hard, his fingers brushing against mine when he reaches for the packet.
I’m steadying myself for a third swig when he frowns at me.
“Hey, share the love, lady.”
He grabs the bottle off me and crawls onto his bed, propping himself up against the headboard, spreading his legs and settling the chips between his thighs.
He takes a long, deep drink of vodka, and when he pats the space beside him, there’s no way I’m turning him down.
Stay strong, Hitman! Except the old, badass Hitman seems to have left the building, and her stand-in is some lame-ass tween I’ve never met before in my life.
I hop onto the bed and snuggle up next to him.
By the time he passes the bottle back to me, it’s half-empty.
I raise an eyebrow. “Feeling better?”
“My heart’s still going a hundred miles an hour, but… yeah.” He smiles down at me. “That was way too much for me to handle.”
“You need to toughen up! Aren’t you used to that kind of vibe, what with basketball and stuff?”
He thinks for a moment. “It’s not the same. When you’re playing a game, you’re in control—even when you don’t exactly know what your opponents are going to pull next. Tonight, though… I had to just let go. Like free-falling, you know?”
“And you didn’t like it?”
My voice sounds thin. I sense him shift in his seat and look down at me, and he’s rattling me, but I hold his gaze. Fuck… There’s something different about the way he’s looking at me now. I guess vodka and adrenaline make for a pretty potent cocktail.
“I was definitely stressing out,” he says as he scours my face.
It feels like the mattress is sagging in the middle, pushing us closer than we should be.
He brightens. “You feel like going for a run?”
What?
“Umm, no.” I shake my head. “It’s three in the morning.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’m just so wired. I need to blow off some steam or something.”
I could help you out…
“You’ve got your car back—life is good,” I remind him.
“I know. It’s just gonna take me a while to wind down, that’s all. You know, once I got back in the Dodge, I was so happy I could’ve made sweet love to her all night long.”
Urgh! Now I want him even more…
My mind starts spinning into overdrive, as scenes of Lewis making love to me in his car go flashing before my eyes.
“It’s gross, but I think that is actually a thing,” I fire back. “I saw a documentary about it. It’s called objectophilia, or something. There was this part where they spoke to a girl who actually screwed the Empire State Building…”
Back it up, Hitman!
“What?”
“Never mind. Gimme some chips before you eat them all.”
He props the bag up between us, and I notice his knee is bouncing like crazy. Our timing sucks—every time I dip a hand in, he does the same, our fingers brushing as we forage for food. Or maybe I’m doing it on purpose without even realizing?
As we munch our way through the bag, we replay the race, discussing every twist and turn of our win against Tyler, but the peace and quiet doesn’t last.
He pauses. “Is that…”
“Un-freaking-believable,” I say, pounding a fist on the wall.
The guests in the room next door are getting busy, and whatever it is they’re doing, it doesn’t seem to involve snacks.
I’d almost be jealous, if it weren’t for just how badly all that moaning and groaning is making my stomach turn.
Every creak of the mattress, every squeak of the bed frame…
We’ve got front-row tickets to the whole show, and not only are these guys loud—they’re taking their sweet time getting to the finale.
Lewis elbows me. “How many do you think?”
“Just two.”
“Sounds more like a football team in there.”
“Trust me, there’s only two of them. But the guy switches up the sound effects depending on whether he’s thrusting in or out.”
Lewis’s eyes slide over to me. “And you got all that through a wall?”
“You know those hookers we saw in Brooklyn?” I shrug. “Well, I spent two years living right next door to them, and those were some weak-ass walls, let me tell you. I’m not saying I’m an expert, or anything, but yeah—I know my sex sounds.”
“Damn. That’s pretty amazing.”
“Right?”
He strains to hear, and it takes him a moment to notice me looking at him.
When he does, he stares right back into my eyes.
I can’t tell whether he wants it the way I do.
“Should we get some sleep—”
Ouch.
“I’m gonna take that shower,” I say, wincing inwardly as I realize I just cut him off mid-flow.
I jump out of bed, and the room is spinning. I steady myself with one arm.
“Don’t tell me you’re wasted…?”
“Nope!” I shake my head furiously. “I can more than handle my liquor.”
“That’s great to hear.”
I dart into the bathroom and peel off my clothes, wondering why he even cares whether I’m drunk.
I guess it doesn’t matter, anyway. All I’m interested in right now is a steady stream of water and a nice thick shower curtain so I can do what I need to do.
I want it so bad, I’m practically throbbing in anticipation.
I adjust the temperature and soap myself down, before bracing a foot against the edge of the tub and angling the showerhead just so, leaving every inch of me quivering and exposed, letting my fantasies play out, edging my way to what feels right, getting into the swing and sway of…
“Okay for me to take a leak while you’re in there?”