Page 99 of Mark my Words

“Geez, keep your pants on,” I laughed as I flicked the deadbolt, pulling open the door. I knew it was a dick move to open the door, barely clothed, but we were alone. She didn’t need to freak out seeing a little of the skin she’d been licking the night before.

“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes as the door swung open, huffing, but I saw her eyes widen before she schooled her features to indifference. Kristine could play hard to get all she wanted, but we both knew otherwise.

“What? I wanted to take a shower. I don’t happen to enjoy smelling like an airplane.”

“Put on a damn shirt,” she laughed, but her hand lingered as she pushed against the middle of my chest and shouldered her way into my room. “Isobel sent me an email, and the desk just called to let me know we have a package from Adrian. Evan will probably lose his shit, but they’ve sent some outfits for their reading in the morning.”

“Like what kind of outfits?” I frowned. They were booked to do an erotic reading at a high-end erotic art gallery in the morning, and if Adrian bought Evan a gimp suit or something, we’d never finish this book tour. It would be just his humor to send him something ridiculous that he knew would push Evan’s boundaries, but I also didn’t want to deal with the hissy fit if Adrian found out Evan refused to wear whatever he sent.

“This is why you need to get dressed so we can find out.”

“Are you sure you want me to get dressed? I’m sure the desk can hold the package for a little longer.”

Her eyes widened, a flash of irritation mixed with interest clearly visible before she schooled her features and pointed toward my luggage. So bossy and so easy to rile up. I was enjoying this change to our dynamic immensely.

Kristine watched me as I crossed to my suitcase, taking out a pair of worn jeans and pulling them on slowly. She shifted nervously, rubbing her palms on the sides of her black leggings, but she didn’t look away, watching me pull out my stack of shirts and place them on the bed, finding a worn black t-shirt.

“Sam,” she sighed, taking a step toward me, her fingers flexing.

“Hmm?”

“We really need to stop doing this.”

And there it was. Her nerves were making her pull away again. Closing the distance between us with a few steps, I leaned in, grazing my nose along the side of her cheek. “Sometimes,” I whispered, enjoying the way her breath caught at my proximity, “heading down the path you think is the wrong choice can be the one you were meant to follow all along.”

Her body trembled as she stood completely still before me, her shallow breaths the only sound in the room. I could keep coming after her. It’d be easy to kiss her again, fall into the bed on the other side of the room, and show her how good we were together. But it wouldn’t help the distance she kept between us in every other aspect of our relationship.

It appeared we were at an impasse again.

The small hand pressing into the middle of my chest wasn’t a surprise, and neither were the two steps she staggered backward as she ran a nervous palm down her loose hair.

“How profound of you, Langley. Have you sold that one to Hallmark yet?”

“We’re reverting to last names now?”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. My smile grew when it only served to push her tits together, the soft swells nearly spilling right out the neckline of her form-fitting tank. Kristine’s traveling clothes were the most casual I’d ever seen her, and I liked seeing her clean-faced and soft-looking in a pair of sweats. “You didn’t like it when I called you Spamela.”

“Touché.”

“Although I think Langley fits in lieu of an alternate nickname.” She made a pointed glance at my lower half.

“Well,” I laughed, pulling my shirt over my head. “I think we could brainstorm a fitting name for you to yell out later.”

“Keep it in your pants, Langley. Let’s get this over with,” she frowned, pulling her hoodie closed and securing the zipper as she noticed where I was staring.

“Well, which one do you want? Do you want me to keep it in my pants? Or do you want to get this over with?”

“Leaving now,” she called over her shoulder, heading toward the door separating our rooms. “Or I’ll take care of it without you.”

“Can I watch?” I laughed as I sat on the end of my bed to pull on my socks and shoes.

Her middle finger was the last thing I saw as she slammed the door closed, but I smiled when I heard her muffled laughter through the wall. She didn’t say no.

Adrian: Did you deliver the package to the target yet?

Sam: This isn’t some spy movie.

Adrian: What’s the target’s location?

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