LineofSight by Line of Sight

Author:Line of Sight
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-04-19T22:00:42+00:00

Chapter 9

S tefan just wanted to sleep. His eyes felt grainy, his muscles tight and aching with the tension and exhaustion of the day. But he couldn’t sleep, not if Katie was staying awake. But at least he’d bargained for a bed to lie down on, and if sleep came, well…it came.

Not that you don’t want other things.

Oh, he did. It had been unwise, kissing her like that, but he’d wanted it, and he could resist anything except, well, temptation. And she’d been wonderfully receptive in ways that he’d never felt before, despite a pretty broad range of experience.

Something between them had resonated like a struck bell. He felt it tolling now, as he watched Katie book the room and take the clumsy orange triangular key holder. They were in number four.

“Not a word,” she warned him, and pushed past him to lead the way down the hall. He closed his mouth and followed, exchanging a look with the woman at the counter. She winked at him. He winked back purely out of habit.

The hallway, like the rest of the truck stop, was clean and worn. The door opened on a Spartan room, with a plain white queen-size bed, a dark green blanket folded neatly at the foot. Two fluffed pillows. A small desk, a TV in the corner, a phone, a couple of lamps. No decor to speak of.

Katie excused herself to the bathroom, which Stefan thought looked like a continuation of the white theme. White tile, white shower curtain, white towels.

Well, he’d wanted a lack of distractions. This certainly qualified.

He sat down on the bed and took off his shoes, then settled back on the unbelievably soft feather pillow. Bliss. His exhausted body felt as if it were floating.

Stefan opened his eyes as he felt the blanket settling over him. Katie was bent over him, tucking him in, and they were close. Very close.

“You sure you want to do this?” she asked. “You’re tired, and so am I. Maybe you should just rest.”

“No. I want to do this, Katie. I need to do this.”

He reached up to move a lock of hair back from her face. She smiled, but it looked sad.

“We can’t, can we?” he asked. “Not now.”

She hesitated, clearly torn, and then shook her head. “I don’t think so, Stefan.”

He nodded and closed his eyes.

The featherlight pressure of her lips on his surprised and stirred him, and he lifted into the kiss and reached out to stroke his fingers up her arms, bury them in the warm silky mass of her hair. The kiss deepened, sweetened. She opened her mouth and slowly, dreamily caressed his lips with her tongue. He felt her weight sink down on the bed next to him, as if her legs didn’t want to support her, and that was good; it kept her from bolting away and ending this still, quiet, sunlit moment.

When she pulled back, he cleared his throat, trying to look as if that kind of kiss happened to him every day, trying not to betray exactly how compelling he’d found it.

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