Page 169 of Exposé

The weight of his gaze crushed me. “The right thing? This isn’t about right or wrong, Ava. It’s about keeping you alive, whether you hate me in the end or not.”

"Why?"

He shrugged. "We don’t have time to unpack my reasoning. Just know it’s the only thing keeping you breathing right now."With a deep sigh, he leaned into his seat. "Now, am I going to have to restrain you, or will you sit tight while I get us a room?"

"Whatever." I looked away from him and sunk into my grimy, stained seat that had seen too many dirt-covered hands.

"That's what I thought." He grabbed my bound wrists and pulled them into his lap.

"Stop. What are you doing?" I tugged, but his strength kept me in place with one hand as he ripped out another tie from his inner jacket and looped it through my wrists.

"It's temporary." Strapping my wrists to the steering wheel, he opened the door. "Now stay put."

Nate stepped out and shut the door while I tugged, the cable ties cutting into my tender flesh. "God dammit, Nate," I screamed as I jerked. "Let me out of here."

My ribs burned as I stretched over the console, his back disappearing into the office.

Such an asshole.

Who does he think he is?

I'm not putting up with this.

I'm going to give him a piece of my mind when he gets back.

A knock on my window jolted me out of my thoughts. Nate stood at the window, dangling a room key between two fingers and a half-smile on his face.

"You're an ass," I said as he opened the door.

"And yet, here we are. Fate must really hate you." Reaching in across me, he snipped the tie and hauled me out of the car and toward the first motel room at the beginning of the U-shaped building.

"I’ll scream all night long until someone comes."

Nate gave a low, gruff laugh as he slid the key into the lock. "Sweetheart, we’ve been down that road before." The door opened, and he pulled me through the door, slamming it in place.

I walked in, my hands hanging in front of me, and glanced around.

The fluid-swollen dresser sat against the wall across from the single queen bed with a seventies-style purple and blue, threadbare comforter.

I'm not sleeping there.

My stomach twisted as I moved toward the bathroom.

The yellow dingy tiles climbed the walls like poison ivy searching for sunlight beneath a thick canopy. Grime sat thick in the corners as though mops had become a non-existent feature in this part of the state.

I grimaced, my lips curling up in disgust.

"Let's not create a commotion, shall we?" He approached me without an ounce of guilt in his step.

Was he toying with me?

The nerve...

"I'm not sleeping here." I turned his way and glared. "I'll get five different STIs and at least some sort of bug."

He raised a mocking brow. "I didn't take you for a priss."

Snorting, I shook my head. "I had better sleeping accommodations when I was poor, working three jobs and attending college full time."

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