Page 37 of Never You

I nod, doing my best to curl my lips at him in sincerity as I slide out of the booth.

He’s right. For the first time in history Jared James Jensen is right.

But then why does it feel so wrong?

9

Me and my damn big mouth.

Frantically, my hand slams against the hotel room door as I curse myself.

I freaked out when the dipshit threw his ghost stories at my face, but I figured I’d be fine.

I was.

But after whatever happened between us tonight, I kept staring at the ceiling, feeling something happening between my legs that wasn’t going to get settled anytime soon while my mind kept going back to his piercing gaze trained on my body.

In other words, he fucked with my head, making it extremely difficult to fall asleep because his eyes were haunting me to stay awake. Add my annoying ex-boyfriend who keeps calling me, and slipping into an alcohol fueled coma has become impossible. And eventhatwas all cool and fine, until it wasn’t, when I heard a noise echoing through the entire room, turning my horny mood into a horrified one.

Took me ten minutes of frantic listening, and I was done.

This shithead is going to fix it.

I don’t know how.

But he is.

“Jensen, open the door!”

When nothing happens, I knock again, hitting the red wooden door harder, wondering if the Phantom Bellboy is lurking over my shoulder.

“Goddammit, Jensen. Open. The. Goddamn. Door!” I practically growl against the wood.

I don’t care how long I have to stand here.It’s his fault.

Shit, I hope he’s not passed out like he vowed he would be. I quickly count the number of drinks he drank in my head. Definitely two scotch at dinner. A shit ton of shots at the bar. And a few beers in between.

My heart drops to the floor, and I let out a shriek when he abruptly opens the door.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, a grimace sitting on his lips, and his face is washed with worry.

Oh, damn.

My eyes roam over his toned inked chest that is missing a shirt, and his jeans are replaced by the sweat shorts he quickly purchased down the street. For the first time I can see his tattoos up close and I’m drawn to the Egyptian god inked in his side.

He looks strong, imposing and wise, a falcon head peering back at me. The whole art piece is fascinating, bringing out his abs in all it’s glory and I can’t resist looking down.

Swallowing, my eyes notice the happy trail that is disappearing into his pants, that hangs loosely on his hips, and I lick my lips without thinking. When my focus moves back up, he’s looking at me with a sleepy, yet amused grin, my mind doing a backflip in embarrassment.

Shit.

I storm past him as a decoy, ignoring his smirk.

One of the beds is directly next to the door, and the room is small, not giving me a lot of space to pace angrily, so instead, I spin on my heels to face him.

“You!” I shove my finger toward his chest. “It’s all your fault!’’.

“Will you hush?” he hisses with a deep frown that’s way too sexy for the middle of the night. “Bodi is asleep!”

---