Page 33 of Unleashed

Nick shrugged. "Not all customers get the special treatment. Those brats over there?" He jerked his thumb at the teenagers. "They pay full price."

I smirked. "Why am I so special?"

"Because we’ve got a soft spot for you. You ought to come by more often—two years is too long."

“I will. I’ll make the drive from the city just to say hello,” I promised.

“I’m holding you to that. Breakfast is at six tomorrow, rain or shine,” Nick said, his tone firm but friendly.

I thanked him, grabbed the bag, and made my way out. The rain had let up a little, but it was still falling heavily. When I got back to the room, Slade was snoring softly, sprawled out on the bed. I tiptoed around, peeling off my wet clothes and hanging them on the hook by the door.

“Slade,” I called softly, but he didn’t stir. I touched his shoulder, and he snorted awake.

“Damn, I was out cold,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Dinner’s here,” I said, setting the food out on the small table.

Slade stretched and yawned. "Let me pay you back for it."

"Nah, you paid for the room. Let’s just eat," I replied, smiling as I began to unpack the food.

The aroma of greasy diner food filled the room, making both our stomachs growl. Slade sat down and opened his container, eyeing the towering burger with a mixture of awe and confusion. He flipped the skewer out and tried to figure out how to eat it.

"How do you even eat this thing?" Slade asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Piece by piece unless you plan on unhinging your jaw,” I teased.

We both laughed as I handed him some napkins. I opened my container and marveled at the thick stack of bacon on my BLT. It’d been too long since I had something this good.

Slade took a massive bite of his burger, ketchup and mustard smearing the corners of his mouth. Before he could reach for a napkin, I leaned over and wiped it away with my thumb.

"Thanks. This really hits the spot after all that trail food," he said, his eyes reflecting his contentment.

I nodded, taking a bite of my sandwich. Then, with a grin, I dipped one of my fries into my vanilla shake—a habit from childhood.

Slade raised an eyebrow, watching me. "Fries in your shake? That’s... different."

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” I said, holding out a fry.

He hesitated, then dipped a fry into his own chocolate shake and took a bite. His eyes widened in surprise. "You’re right. Might never eat them with ketchup again."

We fell into a comfortable silence, savoring our food. It might be the last proper meal we’d have for a while, and we both knew it.

CHAPTER 8

The room was cloaked in darkness, the only light a faint sliver from the moon sneaking through the curtains. I jolted awake, my heart racing, as I felt Slade's hand on my shoulder. The remnants of a vivid dream still lingered, and my face flushed with heat, my pulse quickening with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

“I’m sorry,” Slade murmured, his voice husky with sleep. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I blinked into the darkness, disoriented.

“You were moaning my name,” he continued, a playful edge in his voice. “And begging for more. What were you dreaming about?”

I rolled onto my side, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t remember,” I mumbled, trying to deflect the conversation.

Slade’s hand slid gently but insistently over my shoulder, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. “I think you do,” he said softly, his breath warm against my ear.

The weight of his words, combined with the palpable tension between us, made my heart race. I could feel the outline of his arousal pressing against my back, and it only intensified the lingering ache from my dream.

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