Don't Go There (Awkward Love Book 5) by Missy Johnson

Author:Missy Johnson [Johnson, Missy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

“Come on, Adam,” I tease. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

I start laughing so hard there are tears in my eyes. I probably shouldn’t be finding this as funny as I am but fuck it.

“I think it’s still in the car—where we aren’t.” He scowls at me. “Why are you finding this so amusing?” he adds, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Because if I don’t laugh, then I’ll cry and if I do that, I’m not sure when I’ll stop.”

“Okay, so in hindsight, picking up the hitchhiker wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done,” Adam admits. “Who knew some kid who looked twelve could pack a punch that almost knocked me out?”

“Uh, me? I knew?” I boast, still grinning like an idiot.

“Oh, bullshit. You were just being scared.”

“Cautious is not being scared,” I retort. “You’re just angry because your little plan to make me uncomfortable didn’t work.

“If I wanted to do that, I’d have asked you straight up if you were thinking about me while you were touching yourself last night.”

I cringe and drop my gaze, because I just got schooled.

We’ve been walking for what feels like hours, in the direction of a gas station that I’m not convinced even exists. Finally, it comes into view. I’m about to tell Adam, when I remember I can never face him again. Ever.

He wanted to leave me back where we were stranded and walk by himself and return with a car, but like hell I was staying there all alone. Hamish—if that’s even his name, was probably waiting for Adam to abandon me, so he could sweep in and abduct me.

I wince, pain driving through my heel again like it has done since we started walking. It’s my choice of shoes that’s the cause. If I had known I’d be walking for miles, I would have worn my hiking books.

“You totally owe me a foot massage, by the way.”

“Gladly,” he says. “I’ll rub your feet while you’re lying back on our big, comfy bed. I warn you, though.” He grins at me. “I’ve been told my foot massages are orgasmic.”

Now it’s my turn to scowl at him.

He chuckles and points at the gas station.

“Look behind it.”

I gasp. A motel.

“Thank fucking God.” I groan.

I throw my arms around him before I realize what I’m doing, then I stare at him awkwardly. When his hand slides over the curve of my ass, I stiffen—and so does something else when I inadvertently press myself against him. His eyes twinkle. He smirks at me, making no attempt to cover his erection.

“Remember that twenty-minute conversation you had with a guy as he jerked himself off in the back of your friend’s car?”

“You play harsh.” His eyes burn through me, but he steps back. “Thanks for telling me, by the way. You obviously knew what he was doing,” he grumbles.

“You’re welcome.” I giggle.

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