Page 38 of Hot Nights in Morocco
“Very well.” Jake considers me for a moment. “Ready?” He inclines his head toward the waiting car.
I hesitate.Am I?We’ve resolved nothing between us, other than a few more lurches in that pendulum. He touches my arm and I try not to flinch away.
“I’m not forgiven yet, am I?” he says, frowning at me.
I shake my head. “I don’t think I am, either.”
“Then we better hit the gas.” That wicked gleam is coming out to play again. “The sooner we get back to my hotel suite, the sooner we can start making it up to one another.”
Chapter Twenty
It’s three a.m. and I’m wide-awake. Not by choice, I might add.
I woke up screaming about my father again, and now I can’t get back to sleep.
Kicking off the white bed sheet, I flip my pillow over in a fit of irritation. The humidity in the room is dense and overpowering, my face is prickly with sweat, and the air conditioning unit above the bathroom door is threatening to pack up any minute. There’s a telltaledrip, drip,pingas the condensation leaks out of a crack in the gray plastic cover and torpedoes the terracotta tiles below.
Tick tock…ping
The droplets are getting bigger.
Symphony a la insomniac.
A car rumbles past outside, and I watch strips of headlight slither across the ceiling like angular orange snakes. This night is dragging on and on like some endless marathon.
Twenty-four hours have passed since we arrived back in Erizo. Twenty-four hours of craving Jake Dalton far more than I should, and tying myself in knots over the sheer improbability of us. I’m still waiting for him to screw his apology into me. There was some major PR catastrophe waiting for him on set, and as such I’ve barely seen him, let alone touched him.
If anything, it’s made me want him even more, and boy,do I want him tonight. The relentless heat and the thought of his smoking-hot body lying naked in the Presidential Suite just one floor above is doing crazy things to my lust levels. In his arms is the only place I want to be, the only place where my past can’t reach me.
By some telepathic witchcraft my cell phone on the nightstand starts chiming.
Jake:Is it just classic literature you read or have you a voracious appetite for everything?
Me:Define everything.
Jake:I don’t need to define anything with you. You’re one of the only women I know who doesn’t have to look up big words like voracious.
Me:Maybe you should concentrate on IQ size rather than bra size in future?
Jake:Maybe I should. What are you reading right now?
Me:Porn.
Jake:You can’t read porn. I hear it’s more a visual thing.
Me:Maybe Global should consider expanding into the adult entertainment business.
Jake:Maybe you should stop talking about sex unless you want me banging down your door.
Me:Is this heading toward a three-night thing now? If so, I might have to check my diary.
Jake:Fuck your diary. What are you wearing?
Me:Nothing
Jake:On my way.
Me:Wait!
