Page 131 of Next Level Up
She nods quickly. “Yeah—yeah, in the front pocket.”
He doesn’t waste time, heading for it while she stays right where she is, her attention locked on me like the rest of it doesn’t matter. “That’s… not nothing,” she mutters, quieter now.
I huff out a breath that almost turns into a laugh, reaching up to catch her wrist before she can pull back again. I press her hand flat against my chest, right over it, ignoring the sting. “You did that, don’t act like you regret it.”
“I don’t,” she says a little unsure.
Carter comes back a second later, pulling a wipe free, but I don’t look at him. He crouches beside us, handing her the wipe, she hesitates again before taking it, glancing between me and the blood one more time.
“Hey,” he says, nudging her shoulder lightly. “It’s okay. Just clean him up.”
That seems to settle her. She takes the wipe, pressing it to my chest.
“Fuck,” I murmur under my breath, more to myself than anything, shaking my head once.
She glances up. “What?”
I meet her eyes. “That was hot,” I tell her plainly. “All of it.”
Her lips part as I tilt my head slightly, looking down at the mark she’s trying to clean away. “Don’t scrub too hard, I want it to stay.”
Her hand stills. “Stay?”
“Yeah,” I say, eyes lifting back to hers. “I’m hoping that one sticks.”
Her legs barely work as Carter helps her back toward the car. I sit back on my heels for a second, watching her.
“You good?” Carter asks her softly.
She nods, a small smile pulling at her mouth. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“That’s one way to shut your brain off,” Carter grins.
“Worked, didn’t it?” I trail behind.
Carter looks over the hood of the car, and yawns. “Well fuck I’m not driving all the way back tonight.”
“No shit, I’m one yawn away from folding myself into the back seat and passing out.”
Haven giggles as she climbs into the front seat. “You’re both so dramatic. But yeah, agreed. I’m not wearing pants, and my legs feel like jello.”
“Not our fault,” Carter says with a grin.
“Absolutelymyfault,” I add, opening the maps app on my phone. “Okay. Closest motel is five miles away. Probably nothing fancy.”
“Do they have walls?” Haven asks. “A bed?”
“Yes.”
“Sold.”
Ten minutes later we’re pulling into a run-down, two-story motor inn with flickering signage looks like it’s from another decade. But the guy at the front desk doesn’t ask questions, justhands us a key to a room with two beds, bad lighting, and a working shower.
Good enough. I throw myself on one of the beds, my arms flung wide.
Carter drops the key on the nightstand and flips through the television channels looking for something that won’t annoy the rest of us. Haven disappears into the bathroom for a quick rinse and comes out minutes later. “Which bed am I getting ruined in tonight?” she asks, biting back a smile.
Carter looks at me. I look at her. And then we both say, “Mine.”
