Page 103 of The Weakest Wolf

She raises a brow. “You could’ve kept driving, you know.”

Moving closer, I tuck her against my bare chest. “You’re more comfortable this way.”

“And it isn’t because you wanted an excuse to get me naked?”

I kiss her head. “That too.”

When she falls silent, I loosen my hold on her and take in the simple but clean motel room in shades of beige and brown.

From the slightly stale perfume my nose picks up, it could’ve done with a more thorough clean, but it’ll do for a night.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“Nebraska.”

“Oh.”

“Did you want me to wake you before we left Wyoming?” I’d meant to ask, but by the time I remembered, Sierra was already asleep.

“No,” she says softly, “that we’ve left it is enough. What time is it?”

I grab my cell phone from the bedside table. “Seven. You hungry? We passed a restaurant a couple of miles back that we could hit for dinner.”

“No, not yet. Maybe later.”

Instead of responding, I kiss her hair again. It’s still incredible to me that we’re away from the Stone pack, and that I stopped Bowen before he could—

“Galen?”

“Yes?”

“You’re squeezing too hard.”

I release her with a muffled curse. “Shit, sorry. You okay?”

She nods.

We fall into silence, and in the distance, the rumble of trucks on the highway continues. “Are we staying the night here?”

I shift Sierra onto her back and peer into her eyes. I’m still as hard as I’ve been since I stripped her and slipped her into bed. But as I study her expression, I don’t get the impression she wants sex. “Yeah, why?”

Her touch is light as she strokes my back. “Won’t your beta be expecting us in Iowa?”

“No, I told Dom to head back.”

“Because you no longer plan on dying?” Although her thoughtful expression doesn’t change, I feel enough tension in her hands to know there’s more going on in her head than I can read in her eyes.

I smooth back a few strands of hair from her face. “No, because you saved me.”

“We saved each other,” she corrects me. “If we ignore the bacon incident.”

“I was sure I’d gotten it all.” When Sierra filled me in on what happened to her in the kitchen, I’m still torn between the desire to laugh or punch something.

“Well, you didn’t.”

“I have to say, this list of ways I’ve fucked up is getting longer by the day. You sure you want to have anything to do with me?” My tone is casual, but my brain hasn’t shut off since I drove us out of Dexter hours ago.

Sierra may have looked at me like she loves me, but that doesn’t mean everything between us has been resolved. Time has shown me over and over that sometimes love isn’t enough.

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