Page 8 of Road Trip With Her Daddy Protector

I sneak a glance at Gus, taking in his strong profile, the way his jaw is set in quiet determination. My heart beats a little faster just watching him drive. Being with Gus feels easy, natural, like breathing—even when things between us are complicated.

“Wanna play a game?” I ask, breaking the quiet.

He glances at me with a half-smile, eyebrow raised. “What kind of game?”

“License plate alphabet,” I explain cheerfully. “You find a plate starting with each letter of the alphabet, in order.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “That's a kid’s game.”

I pout playfully. “Come on, tough guy. Afraid you'll lose?”

Gus’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Fine. But I’m warning you, I’m very competitive.”

“I bet you are,” I tease, ignoring the flutter in my stomach.

We spend the next hour searching the road for letters, laughing, bantering, and playfully arguing over who spotted the plates first. It feels effortless with Gus—so different from Tyler. With Tyler, everything was exhausting, like walking on eggshells. With Gus, even a simple car game makes my heart feel lighter.

As the afternoon fades, Gus pulls into a hotel parking lot, nestled along a quiet stretch just off Route 14. The small brick building is neat and inviting, surrounded by blooming azaleas.

"We’ll rest here tonight,” Gus says gently. “You okay?”

I nod, smiling softly. “I'm better than okay.”

Inside, Gus checks us in while I linger in the lobby, fingers tracing the pattern on the vintage wallpaper. My pulse quickens as he returns, room key dangling from his hand. Once inside our room, I immediately notice there’s only one bed again.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “I can ask for another room if?—”

“No,” I interrupt quickly. “This is fine. I mean, I feel safer this way.”

His eyes darken slightly, but he nods. “Alright. Why don’t you take a shower first?”

“Thanks,” I reply, heart hammering. I grab my bag and slip into the small bathroom, shutting the door gently behind me.

The hot water feels incredible, washing away road dust and tension. But as I stand beneath the spray, my thoughts driftinevitably to Gus—the heat in his eyes, the way he struggles to push me away, even when I know he doesn’t want to.

A bold idea flickers to life. If Gus won’t let go of his reservations, maybe he just needs a little encouragement. I wrap a fluffy white towel tightly around myself, my heart thumping wildly as I step back into the room.

Gus sits on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, scrolling absently. The moment I enter, he freezes, eyes locked on me, wide and stunned.

“Forgot my pajamas,” I say softly, feigning innocence. I cross the room slowly, aware of the way his gaze follows every movement, lingering on my bare shoulders, the curve of my legs.

“Lola…” His voice is a hoarse whisper, strained with barely restrained desire. “What are you doing?”

“Just getting my clothes,” I say innocently, opening my bag on the bed beside him, purposely standing close enough for him to feel my warmth. His eyes burn trails along my skin, and heat blooms low in my stomach.

“You’re making this impossible,” he growls quietly, eyes dark with intensity.

“Good,” I whisper back, daring to meet his heated gaze. “Maybe I want it to be impossible.”

“Lola,” he warns, fists clenching at his sides, his breathing ragged.

“Gus,” I say softly, boldly stepping closer, heart racing. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me right now, and I’ll stop.”

His eyes blaze, torment and desire warring within them. Finally, he shakes his head, voice rough. “I can’t.”

“Then stop fighting it,” I breathe, closing the tiny space between us, my body inches from his. “We both want this.”

For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move, tension radiating from every muscle. And then, with a groan of surrender, his arms wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

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