“How far are we from the motel?” I ask, as Dash fills up with gas.

“A couple more hours, I figure we can stop outside Charleston.” he replies, meeting my eyes. “Tired?”

Not exactly. In fact, I’m the opposite of sleepy, with desire thrumming in my veins.

“Mmmm… I’m going to get some water,” I say, heading inside to go cool off by one of the icy drink cabinets. I fan myself with the door, but it doesn’t help cool my overheated hormones.

Is it possible to just climb right inside?

“That feels good.”

Dash’s breath is hot on the back of my neck, but still, I shiver.

“The cold is nice,” I say inanely. I turn and find him standing just inches away.

He smirks. “That wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Dash slides his hands around my waist, and kisses me, slow and smoldering. I shudder in delight, pressing closer, my hands going up around his neck and my body pressing closer to his out of pure instinct.

His tongue lazily explores mine, trapping me here with the icy drinks at my back, and his blazing heat in front of me.

I surface, breathless. “I was supposed to be cooling off,” I tease him, and Dash laughs.

“Not sorry.” He leans in and nips the curve of my neck. “You know, we could always skip the rest of the drive today and find someplace here to stay…”

Head straight for the nearest available room? It’s tempting as hell, but there’s something sexy about the anticipation, too.

“What were you telling me about patience?” I say with a smirk, trailing my hands over his chest… And plucking the keys from his pocket. “Good things come to those who wait. And until then… It’s my turn to drive!”

Did I say we could make it to Charleston without combusting? I stand corrected. After another two hours of flirting, sideways glances, and stolen stop-light kisses, I’m pretty much ready to melt by the time we stop at a swanky hotel that in no way, shape, or form resembles a Motel 6.

But as Dash is bringing our bags inside, my nerves flare up. Will he try to be a gentleman and book us two rooms? Will I have to wander the hallways to accidentally join him in his? Or will he take it for granted that we’re doing unspeakable things tonight, and just assume he can book one?

I’m flipping back and forth between which one I think is better when the moment of truth arrives. The clerk behind the desk glances at Dash’s license, then down at us. “Will that be two rooms tonight, or one?”

Dash arches one eyebrow at me. “What do you say?” he asks, his voice husky.

I swallow. The ball is firmly in my court. The choice, mine. Except, who am I trying to fool here? On this day, in this moment, on this planet we call Earth while basking in the warm invitation simmering in Dash’s eyes, there is only ever going to be one answer.