Page 27 of My Road Trip with a Vampire: Season One
“Mostly just freaked me out,” I say, pressing my fingertips to my forehead. “The two different energies gave me whiplash. Wasn’t expecting that. Could you see him?”
“No, I could only see the woman when we got close. Then there was the fog. But I could tell something had you.”
“Yeah. He was strong.”
Dennis makes a low noise in his throat.
“We should stay in and regroup after that. We’ll be more prepared tomorrow night.”
I nod.
I like to finish a task once I start it, but I don’t feel the urge to get back out there now.
“I feel bad about it, though. There’s still plenty of time to kill before the sun comes up. I hate to make you spend the rest of the night in here with me. That sounds boring.”
“Why do I feel like being in a tent with you sounds anything but boring?” he asks.
My pulse quickens and races down my body, settling between my legs at the thought of all the things one might get up to in a tent. I almost forget he can hear my heartbeat. He knows when it’s racing.
“I meant we can play cards or talk,” he says with a lopsided smile. His dark hair is damp and falling over his eyes, but I can’t miss the twinkle there like he’s caught me thinking something inappropriate.
“Oh. Yeah. Cards,” I say, blowing out a breath.
I really wish I’d finished getting myself off before we left the hotel. I’m wound up way too tight, and all the futile pretending we were doing for the ghost didn’t help.
Dennis gets up and adjusts the camping lamp before he pulls off his black boots and rifles through his duffel for fresh clothes.
He’s facing the other end of the tent when he pulls his shirt off, and I can't stop staring at the muscles moving between his shoulders.
He turns back to me.
“I thought it was generally uncomfortable for humans to watch other people get dressed?”
"Umm."
A trail of hair dips below the jeans slung across his hips. Obviously, he knows how to shop too—those jeans hug him perfectly. His fingers reach for his belt buckle.
Holy shit, I’m still staring.
“Oh yeah, sorry. I’m still kind of out of it,” I say quickly, spinning around without missing the look on his face. He's enjoying this, and I'm stroking his ego.
He laughs.
“It’s raining, but if you want to help me get my tent set up it wouldn’t bother me,” I lie.
I absolutely don’t want to be out here alone in the freaking wilderness with one of the nastiest-looking ghosts I’ve ever seen.
“Bea,” he says, and I hear his belt buckle hit the ground. In a second, he’s by my side, somehow looking even hotter in a pair of dark gray joggers and a black tank top. “If you feel more comfortable being in your own tent, I understand, but the way that ghost latched on to you… I don’t like the idea of not being close enough to help if there are any late-night hauntings.”
I’m not sure what to say. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable with me in his sleeping space, becauseboundaries, but my brain is screaming at me not to turn him down, not after I nearly got choked out by a ghost.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he says softly when I don’t respond. He’s standing closer than what's appropriate for co-workers. His breath ghosts my hair and neck with a cool chill when he talks.
“I don’t think you would. I just don’t want you to feel awkward,” I say.
He chuckles.
“It takes a lot to make me feel awkward, Bea. This is your choice.”
