Page 62 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
“Yeah, I actually slept like a rock. How about you?”
“I wouldn’t say like a rock. But I’ve had worse sleeps.”
I grin against his chest. “You didn’t spend months sleeping on a shelf, either. You’re used to that soft, mattress life.”
“I am.” He stretches, his whole body going taut against mine before relaxing, ensuring I’m suddenly very aware of the way every inch of him fits against every inch of me.
I’m sure the fact that he’s promised me multiple orgasms before this day is through has something to do with that…
God help me, I can’t wait.
My panties have been at least a little wet since he listed all the ways he’s going to stake his claim, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. If being desperate for Parker to eat my pussy in a deck chair after delivering on his kinky promises in the hot tub is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
As if freshly incensed by my slutty thoughts, Crawford rattles more vigorously in the mug, the sound of his claws on the ceramic sharp in the morning quiet.
“Crawford wants us to get up,” I murmur.
“Crawford’s a dick,” Parker says, glancing down toward our captive. “But I guess I would be, too, if I’d spent the night in jail.” He sighs, his arm tightening around me one last time before he pulls away with a groan. “Guess it’s time to do the damned thing.” He groans again as he sits up, pressing a hand to his lower back. “Fuck this piece of shit air mattress. We’re never camping again.”
“Or we could buy a better mattress.”
He glares at me over his shoulder. “No. No camping, Makena. Stop it. Right now.”
I laugh. “Stop what?”
“Stop being a nature girl. I can’t take it anymore. From now on, I need a real mattress and a real door, the kind that keeps creepy crawly shit out of my bed.”
“Valid,” I say, echoing his groan as I sit up, my spine protesting every inch of the way. “Okay, yeah. Now that you mention it, my back has been happier.”
“See? I’m right,” he says. “I’m always right.” He exhales a heavy sigh. “It’s my cross to bear.”
Rolling my eyes, I give his arm a playful shove. “Okay, Mr. Right, let’s free the political prisoner before he organizes a revolt.”
Parker bobs his brows. “Mr. Right, huh? I knew you’d come around, sooner or later.”
Even yesterday, the teasing words might have made me twitchy, but now I simply roll my eyes again, laughing as I insist, “Will you just get out of the truck, already? I’m tired of wet pajamas and I need to pee.”
“And it’s already getting nasty in here,” he agrees, scooting to the end of the bed. “Why does summer have to be so hot first thing in the morning, Makena? It’s aggressive.”
He’s right. Outside, the air is already thick with humidity, promising another scorcher.
But that’s okay.
We’ll be in the air-conditioned truck most of the day, and then…
I can’t think too much about “then,” or the chances I’ll be able to stay focused on getting out of here before the sun bakes our brains will be slim to none.
Cleanup isquick and surprisingly fun. Thankfully, both our tote bags are mostly dry, and we take turns in the communal bathhouses, still deserted at this early hour. I change into a sundress, run frizz-easing cream through my chaotic hair, and set about helping strip the soggy sheets off the bed.
Once we’ve brought some semblance of order to our gear, Parker totes the destroyed air mattress to a nearby dumpster, while I mop up the truck bed with the campground rental towels.
Afterward, I make coffee, while he deals with the damp sheets, doing a little dance to the bossa nova music playing on his phone as he hangs them on the line.
For a man in a knee brace, his hips don’t lie.
Who knew khaki shorts could be so sexy?
But honestly, with an ass like Parker’s, everything he wears is sexy.
