Page 39 of Innocent Princess

James smiles and walks back to his station. I meet Ryker's eyes in the mirror, and I'm struck by the lust I see in them. Breaking the connection, I turn back to James, and he tells me about how he's going to bandage it up and how to care for it.

As we head back up to the front, I ask James about the bill, and he tells me that it's been taken care of. I start to object, but he interrupts me. "I owed Ryker a tattoo, so don't worry about it." His smile is warm; I can tell an argument would get me nowhere.

We say our goodbyes, and Ryker promises to visit James over the summer break.

It's a little past nine when we decide to grab a bite to eat before finding a place to stay for the night. Even though Ryker was willing to drive some more, it's late. I really don't care if we get home later than we planned tomorrow.

After burgers, fries, and milkshakes, we stop by the cookie shop and buy some for the road tomorrow. That's my excuse at least, Ryker jokes that all the cookies will be eaten before we fall asleep.

We are able to find a tiny motel, ten minutes outside of town, with only one room left.

Ryker carries both of our bags, and I grip the key in my hand as we climb the rickety stairs to the second floor.

"I don't have high hopes. This place isn’t as nice as the last one we stayed at," he mumbles.

When I unlock the door, we are greeted with a sparse room. A slight musty smell hits my nose, but it's not completely unpleasant. It isn't the smell or the lack of decor in the room that garners my attention, it's the full size, singular bed in the middle of the room that makes me gulp.

A strange feeling runs through my veins. I'm excited for what's to come with Ryker; I'm ready to lose a piece of me that I've held so close for so long. Ryker feels right—he's the right person to do this with. I hope, not just once or twice. At the same time, I'm nervous. What if I'm not good at the whole sex thing? I'm not a sexy person, I'm inexperienced and innocent. I need to find my inner confidence, so I overcome the unsureness of it all.

I watch Ryker walk across the room, he lays my duffel on top of the tiny dresser under the television and places his on the floor.

"I'm going to grab a quick shower." He fishes through his bag and disappears into the bathroom. Seconds later, the shower turns on.

I let out a breath and walk to my own bag to find a pair of sleep shorts and a tank. After changing, I walk to the bed and prop up the pillows and try to find the right position to lay that keeps my weight off my back shoulder. My new tattoo doesn't hurt much, but it's tender and isn't all that comfortable when I put pressure on it.

I'm leaning against the headboard, scrolling through my Instagram feed when the bathroom door opens. Ryker is in a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. His hair is spikey with wetness, and as he walks in front of the bed to put his clothes in his bag, a few remaining drops of water glisten on his chest. His shoulders are spectacular. The smooth skin of his broad, muscular shoulders is painted in several tattoos, mostly tribal-like designs.

My fingers itch to trace every single one. His skin isn't covered, there's more tanned skin than art, but there's enough to keep my fingers busy.

Just like that, heat pools in my core and creeps up my body, desire overtaking all my emotions. His calf muscles are strong, and I wonder if he works out. He's crouched in front of his bag, looking for something.

It gives me more time to take him in. I'm looking forward to when he turns around, so I see what art covers his chest.

He stands and turns, catching me staring. He smirks and walks to the opposite side of the bed. I take the opportunity to feast my eyes upon the amazingness of his chest. He tosses his wallet onto the bedside table.

"Blondie, you like what you see?" His voice is husky, and his expression is unwavering.

I drag my eyes up to his chest to his face. My mouth is dry, so I just nod.

Fire flashes in his eyes as he lowers himself to the bed. My heart pounds in my chest. He sits facing the headboard, placing us face to face as he slides in next to me. He leans his hand on the bed next to my hip and uses his other to gently caress my cheek.

"Watching you get that tattoo was sexy as hell, Blondie." He digs his fingers into my hair.

I smirk but narrow my eyes. "Yeah?" My voice comes out breathy.

"Yeah, made me want to do a bunch of stuff to you." He leans in, I can feel his breath on my cheek. "Made me wish like hell that we had been alone."

I clear my throat. "What kind of stuff?"

"Where to start? I wanted to kiss you," he says, as his eyes drop to my mouth.

I smile, looking up at him beneath my eyelashes. "And?"

"I wanted to rip your clothes off." He leans into my neck, and I stretch to the side, providing him easy access.

All I can muster in response is a "hmm-hm."

"I want to plunge my fingers into your hair and..."

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