Someone needed to club her over the head if she ever got to the point that she thought any man was worth fighting over.
When it came to the Fury sisterhood, if any of their ol’ men stepped out of line with another woman, they already made it clear to them, they’d simply walk away. They weren’t putting up with that shit and they also weren’t going to fight another woman over him.
And what did that do?
It kept those men on a short leash without them even being aware of it.
You stray, you pay was the silent code the women followed. And it was damn effective.
No nagging, no arguments and no having to keep tabs on their men. It was an easy and tidy way to keep their relationships loyal and solid. It simply worked.
“Grab your shit,” he grumbled, getting out of the truck and going to the back hatch. When she got out and joined him, he handed her her backpack, the soda and one of the subs.
He grabbed the rest of the stuff, locked up his vehicle and headed to the room on the end.
“Which one is mine?” she asked with her arms full.
He jerked his chin toward the room next door and disappeared inside.
His door slamming shut jerked her into motion and she went to her door, managed to open it without dropping anything and went inside the dark room.
She couldn’t see shit but at least it smelled clean.
She made her way to the bed, dumped everything on it, then went back to close the door, lock it and turn on the lights. Once she did, she turned and noticed something.
Another door on the right.
He’d gotten them adjoining rooms.
She immediately went over and unlocked her side and was faced with a closed door on his. She tried the knob but it was locked. She sighed, closed hers but didn’t bother to lock it since he had a damn key, anyway.
Truthfully, she had no reason to keep him out. If he wanted to come visit her during the night and ravish her, she certainly wasn’t going to push him back out the door.
A whole bunch of hot, sweaty sex and exchange of fluids—besides whiskey—might help release some of the irritability he was struggling with.
They were in Coatesville, PA. Far, far, far from Manning Grove.
No one had to know.
Hell, no one even knew she and Rev were together. In the same town, in the same motel. The two of them knocking boots would just be one more secret in a club full of them.
All they had to do afterward was pretend it never happened.
That could work.
It could.
Couldn’t it?
She stared at the door that connected the two rooms and chewed on her thumbnail.
No. He wanted to be alone. To wallow in his misery. She needed to respect that. He was always telling her she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. And if she pushed her way into his room, she would be proving him right.
“Damn it,” she whispered.
She’d leave the interior door unlocked and she’d let him make the first move, if that was what he wanted.
She glanced at her phone and saw it was only a little after five and way too early to call it a night. She removed her boots, jeans, bra and top and pulled on the comfy silky shorts and camisole set she slept in. Once settled on the bed with pillows propped behind her, she grabbed the remote, found a decent movie, sucked down the bottle of warm generic water that came with the room, and ended up scarfing down the whole ham, cheddar and bacon sub by herself.
After getting up before the crack of dawn and now with a full belly of carbs and processed meats, the movie became a distant memory as sleep pulled at her, dragging her under until it spit her back up hours later.
The drone of the TV filled her ears before she blinked open her eyes, taking a few seconds to remember where she was and why. She wiped the saliva away from the corner of her mouth, brushed breadcrumbs off her chest and sheets, then glanced at the time on her cell phone again since it had to be the middle of the night.
She groaned. It was only nine. She’d slept away the last three hours.
If she tried to go back to sleep now, she’d never sleep through the rest of the night.
What was the solution? Whiskey. Maybe a few hits of pot.
But did she have any? Hell no.
Did she know who had some? Hell yes.
Now, was he willing to share?
She didn’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, now could it?
Chapter Six
After splashing water on her face, running a brush through her snarled hair, and tugging a few strands forward to cover the scar along her temple, she glanced down at what she was wearing. Without a bra, her breasts hung a little lower but they were still damn perky for their size. Her nipples were punching through the thin, silky royal blue fabric, but it wasn’t like Rev hadn’t seen nipples before.
He’d seen plenty. He just hadn’t seen hers yet.
Yet, being the key point.
She went back to the doors connecting their rooms, opened hers and saw his was still closed. She put her ear against it to hear voices and music droning on his side.
Instead of knocking, she tried the little knob and blinked in surprised when it turned easily within her fingers.
He’d unlocked his, but he hadn’t opened hers? Had he checked on her while she was sleeping?
Huh.
Or maybe he had come in with the intent to ravish her, found her asleep and decided otherwise. Damn. Did she cock-block herself? That would be her luck.
She nudged the door open and tentatively peeked into his room. It was dark except for the ebb and flow of colorful light and shadows caused by the television.
She immediately glanced at the bed. He was sitting up against the headboard with a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hand.
Damn. He’d hit that hard. How he was still sitting upright, she had no idea. The room also smelled like pot. She hadn’t checked to see if their rooms allowed smoking or not. Most likely not. Not that Rev would give a shit.
But it wasn’t only the amount of liquor and the lingering smell of quality bud that caught her attention, it was the fact he wore nothing but jeans.
His denim-clad legs were stretched out with the ankles crossed and his feet bare. The waistband of his jeans was unbuttoned right at the bottom of a dark blond happy trail—she would have to inspect it closer to make sure she wasn’t seeing things in the funky light. That meant he was completely shirtless.
The light of the TV flickered off something reflective on his chest.
Something reflective on his chest.
Much smaller barbells than what were in his ears divided each nipple.
Holy shit.
Holy… fucking… shit.
He had pierced nipples just like Deacon. Not that she ever saw Deacon’s—she hadn’t—but she knew he had them because Reese had mentioned it a couple of times. And it wasn’t a secret.
No one ever mentioned Rev’s. And if they had, that information had never been spilled around her. This was important information she should’ve known! Who the hell was holding out?
Because… Daaaaamn.
Even in the uneven light of the TV, she could see his upper chest was covered with a huge tattoo, too, that blended into both inked sleeves covering his arms. Of course, she’d seen him wear short-sleeved shirts plenty of times, but she wasn’t kidding when she said she’d seen his ass and cock more times than his torso. Which was a big, fat zero.
“Problem, buttercup?”