Page 79 of Ride With Me

He shrugged. “Not really.” He paused for a moment and then exhaled loudly. I raised an eyebrow at him and fought the urge to remind him to usewords. “I sleep better closer to the door.”

“Sounds good.” I went to the bed nearest the window and put my suitcase on it. I dug around until I found my shower stuff and the sweats I slept in. “You mind if I go take a shower?” I asked. I managed to contain myself and not ask if he wanted to join me.

He looked up from looking through his backpack. “Sounds good. I’m gonna send my friend an email. Let him know that I should be in King’s Bay tomorrow. Also give him a heads up that I might need a lift from wherever you’re stopping.”

I almost dropped my bag. “King’s Bay?”

“Yeah. Silas lives there. His uncle owns the tech company I’m going to try to get on at.”

“No fucking way,” I laughed.

“I feel like I’m missing something.”

“I live in King’s Bay. Get your friend’s address if you don’t have it. Tell him we should be there sometime in the evening. It’s about nine or ten hours without breaks.”

There was a sparkle in his eyes when he nodded. It really was a small world.

Callum took a shower after I did. I listened to the water running through the bathroom wall and imagined what he looked like naked. I really needed to get some kind of control over my brain. Otherwise sleeping with him in the same room was going to be a nightmare. I was already convinced I was going to dream about his mouth and hands that night, replay everything that had happened and imagine what could have happened had we not been on the road.

Maybe one day, I’d find out.

After all, we were both going to be in King’s Bay. Assuming he got that job. I’d never hoped for someone I barely knew to get a job in my life. I was intrigued by the man. I wanted to get to know him better. I wanted to take the time to explore the heat tension between us, learn if it could be translated to something more. Because I thought it could be. I’d never met anyone like him before, someone so easy to talk.

I heard the water shut off. My mouth went dry. In a few moments, he’d be coming out, sopping wet. I could imagine his dark hair dripping water down the back of his neck, down his bare chest. It was positively pornographic. I was not going to be able to not stare at him. I needed to distract myself. I fumbled through my bag for my Kindle and found a semi-interesting book in my library. One I’d already read, because I knew Iwouldn’t be able to focus on the book either, not with him so close.

By the time he came back into the room, I was leaned back on the bed and seemingly invested in the book. I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He wasn’t shirtless, sadly, but his muscular arms were on full display in a muscle tee. He wore a pair of black basketball shorts, and I was distracted by his long legs and muscular calves. I could see a tattoo peeking out from the leg of the shorts, but I couldn’t make out the details. He turned to put the clothes he’d been wearing in his suitcase, and I noticed more art on the opposite arm, interrupted by the thick strap of his shirt, and disappearing down his back.

Focus, I scolded myself,and not on the tall mountain of muscles in the room.I forced my eyes back to my Kindle and tried to take in the words on the screen. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you a single thing that was happening in the book. At least it looked like I was focused.

I heard his heavy footsteps in the room, and then I heard the sound of him plopping down on his bed. “Reading anything good?”

“I mean it’s good, but I’ve read it before,” I admitted.

I could feel his eyes on me, and I closed the cover to my Kindle.

“Do you read a lot?” he asked.

“I usually read a bit before bed. It helps me turn my brain off. I used to doom scroll on my phone, but then I’d stay up too late.”

I snuck another glance in his direction, and he held up his phone. “I’m guilty of the doom scroll,” he admitted with a chuckle. “What kind of books do you read?”

I felt my cheeks flush. I hated that question, because I couldn’t answer it with anything that sounded deep or meaningful. “Spicy romance novels,” I admitted. “Usually gay ones.”

“That’s a thing?”

I nodded. “That is a thing. They’re pretty good.”

“So when you say spicy?”

I knew the ending of the question. “Explicit sex scenes.”

He shifted in his bed and positioned himself to look at me better. I matched his position on my own bed. His wet hair was just as distracting as I’d imagined it would be. “Is it just vanilla sex or…” he trailed off.

“Depends on the book.”

“The one you’re reading?”

My cheeks burned hotter. Why were we talking about this? Apparently, reading was not the distraction I’d hoped it would be, because it opened up the door to this conversation. “This one has a mix of both, but most of it leans to the kinky side.”

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