Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(32)

Doesn’t much matter. This close to Farren, straddling him, memories from the night before rush back to me, stirring up so many feelings. I bite my lip and lower my chin. But when his fingers reach up and caress my cheek, I glance back up.

Farren searches my eyes while cupping the side of my face. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “So soft,” he murmurs, like he’s a little bit amazed by me.

I want so badly for Farren to kiss me again. My hand goes to his chest, and I grip his T-shirt. When I tug—just a touch—he inches closer.

Our eyes close at the same time, and a second later, his lips touch mine, with soft brushes of contained passion. Like last night, after my admission of inexperience, Farren again handles me with care. But all his tender kisses and gentle touches only serve to heighten my desire. Hell with my heart, I long for him to do more than just kiss me.

Today is spring chilly, and both Farren and I have on jeans. But the dark material of the pair he’s wearing does little to hide that he is just as aroused as I. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I kiss him back with more and more urgency. And when I scoot forward in his lap, every hard inch of him presses against my core.

I moan into his mouth and circle my hips.

“Essa,” he says in a husky voice as he breaks our kiss, “don’t.” His firm hands on my waist still my movements.

“Is this the part where you tell me you have a girlfriend?” I question.

His fingers flex at my sides. “No, there’s no girlfriend.”

“A girl in every port, then?”

He arches an eyebrow my way. “Port?” His eyes sparkle amusedly. “I was in the army, Essa, not the navy.”

I smack his solid pec. “Ha-ha.”

He cocks his head slightly, eyeing me with interest. “Why would you think I have a girlfriend?”

I shrug.

“For the record, Essa,” he says, “I wouldn’t have been kissing you like that if I had a girlfriend.”

I look away. “So, why did you stop?”

“Hey…” He touches my cheek, urging me to look at him. When I do, he says, “I didn’t stop because I don’t want you.”

“Do you think I’m too inexperienced?” I venture in a soft tone.

“Not at all,” he replies, smiling. He brushes back a strand of my hair. “I like that you’re still mostly innocent. It makes you, well, you.” His eyes meet mine. “And, Essa, I like you. I like you a lot.”

I can’t help but smile. But I’m not just smiling. No, it’s much more than that. I am beaming. Not only does Farren look particularly gorgeous up close like this, with his full lips a little swollen from kissing me, but, damn, he just admitted that he likes me.

“I like you, too,” I whisper.

He pulls me to him and gives me a heartfelt hug. “We should get back on the road,” he says into my hair.

I lean back and nod. “Okay.”

While I am climbing back over the console to the passenger side, I decide I’m okay with letting Farren set the pace of whatever is happening between us. I just hope he doesn’t wait too long to finally decide he wants to do more than just kiss me.

A few hours later, we reach Oklahoma City.

“We’re stopping here for the night,” Farren announces as he pulls into the lot of a modest, circa 1950’s motel.

“Aren’t we going to check out the place where Haven’s car was dumped,” I inquire. “I mean, that’s the whole reason why we’re in Oklahoma City, right?”

He throws me a sidelong glance as he places the SUV in park. “I am going to check out where the car was dumped. You are going to stay here.” He gestures to the single-story motel building.

“Oh, lovely,” I murmur as I take in the surroundings.

It’s kind of like we’ve time-warped back to that sixties movie Psycho. The motel is a perfect match. There’s just no creepy Gothic house up on the hill. In fact, there are no hills. It is mostly flat here. Glancing around, I can see there are no other hotels or motels in the vicinity. It appears we are stuck with the Bates Motel.

“I’d probably be safer with you,” I mumble under my breath when a haggard bum hobbles by.

Farren makes a scoffing sound. But after we’re checked in to two rooms directly next to one another, he reconsiders. “Maybe you should go with me,” he says just as I’m turning the key (no key cards here) to let myself into my room.

I quickly agree, and we make a plan to meet back outside the rooms in half an hour, giving us each time to clean up after all the hours we spent on the road today.

Thankfully, when I step into the room, despite the old-fashioned furnishings, the place appears to be very clean. I take a quick shower, throw on a different pair of jeans, as well as a fresh linen blouse, and then meet Farren outside.

He’s still wearing jeans, but he’s changed into a black button-down shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, exposing his strong, corded forearms. I can’t stop staring, and as we start toward the SUV, I sigh longingly.

Farren is slightly ahead of me. He glances back at me over his shoulder and asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yep,” I reply, my eyes traveling over his wide, commanding shoulders and down to his torso that tapers to a perfect V. “Everything is perfect.”