Page 89 of Craving Francesca

My hands raced over his arms and shoulders, one ending on his back and the other wrapped around the side of his neck. His skin was so smooth, the muscles beneath it tensing and flexing as he repositioned my mouth so he could delve deeper.

I groaned, and he jerked back.

“What?” I rasped, leaning forward again.

“Come on, baby,” he said, standing up with me in his arms.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” I gasped, grappling along his skin as I tried to hang on.

He set me on my feet next to our clothes and quickly began drying me with the small towel as I shivered. By the time he was done with my hair, the towel was soaked.

“How the hell are you going to use that?” I asked in dismay.

“It’ll work,” he assured me as he turned his back. “Get dressed before you freeze.”

I kept my eyes on him as I peeled off my bikini and tugged my clothes onto my damp body. It was a struggle to brush the debris off my feet before I put my socks and boots on, but I hurried because Gray must have been freezing his balls off.

“Your turn,” I said, straightening and turning away.

Gray let out a gruff laugh a second later. “I don’t care if you watch,” he said, handing me the flashlight. “Can you hold this?”

“No problem,” I replied, gripping it in my fist.

I didn’t turn around. I wanted Gray like I wanted air, but I wasn’t delusional enough to think that I could just hop into bed with him without some serious repercussions. For better or worse, I was still raw from Scott’s deception. I’d be taking another hit if things didn’t work out with Gray, and I wasn’t sure I’d recover from that.

“Ready?” Gray asked.

I spun to face him. He was fully dressed, and his wet hair was slicked back from his face.

Gray held my hand all the way back to his motorcycle. He didn’t let go until he had to get into his saddlebags again to put the towel away.

“How are you feelin’?” he asked.

“Well, my nipples are still hard as rocks,” I replied, crossing my arms.

He chuckled.

“And I also feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“You wanna ride a couple more hours or stop somewhere close?”

I thought about it. I wanted to keep going, putting as much distance as we could between ourselves and real life—but I was exhausted, and the hot soak hadn’t helped.

“Let’s find somewhere closer,” I finally answered. “Is that okay?”

“It’s your show, baby,” he murmured, coming back around the bike.

When we were back on the road and the vibration of the bike started lulling me into a fog again, I knew I’d made the right choice. Even with the wind whipping around us, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. Twenty minutes later, we were pulling into the parking lot of a small motel that called itself alodge.

“I’m guessing you’ve been here before?” I asked as I followed him toward the office.

“There’s a restaurant and bar connected,” he replied, opening the glass front door. “We can get you some dinner.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that I wasn’t hungry but closed it again. I was a little hungry.

Gray asked for a double room. Once we had our keys, he pulled the bike over so he could park it in front of our door while I walked down the sidewalk, counting the room numbers until I found the right one. Inside was a total trip. It was full of log furniture. The beds, the table, and chairs, the coffee table. The only thing that didn’t seem to be made by hand was the worn-out leather couch.

There were more than one pair of antlers on the walls.

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