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Yes, I’d already been inside him, and it had been life-changing, but I was still being so weird. Like a stalker. Like a weird, socially inept, creepy stalker.

As if my brain wanted to really lock in that newfound status for me, I heard myself blurt, “So you’re dating the faun?”

“What? No.” He shook his head hard. “No, definitely not. No. I’m… I’m free and single. Free as a bird.” He let out a squawk of laughter, then cringed and turned bright red again. Flustered, he swivelled his chair to busy himself with the computer. “So, um, you’re… Would you like a room?”

“Uh, I… Okay.”

What? What the fuck was I doing? I wasn’t here to book a fucking motel room. I lived twenty minutes away; I didn’t need a motel room.

I was here to see him. And give him the replacement shirt and panties I’d bought him, but… that had just been my excuse. To see him.

“Oh, room one is actually available,” he was saying brightly, clicking a few times and tapping away at the keyboard, his hand trembling just a little. “Right next door. Does that sound good?”

“Uh… okay.”

What? my brain shouted to me. What are you doing? Stop agreeing! You don’t want or need a room!

I managed to hide the faint tremor in my hands as I, from outside my own body, watched myself pull out my wallet and pay for the room I neither needed nor wanted. Then I watched myself take the key for room one, my belly clenching when his fingers brushed against mine.

“So, um, enjoy your stay.” He was blushing again, fiddling with one of his curls. “Room one is… Like I said, you’re actually right next door. To the office. So if you need anything… um, you know, like, anything… I’ll be right here.”

“Okay,” I heard myself croak yet again.

“We never get busy here,” he blurted, now fiddling with his pendant. “It’s always super quiet. I’m usually really bored. Just sitting in here on my own. So if you need anything at all…”

“Okay.”

“Fresh towels or… batteries for the TV remote or something…”

“Okay. Thanks.”

I had no fucking idea why I was still going along with this. I’d lost complete control of the situation, and that was honestly a pretty impressive feat considering how little control I’d really needed to begin with.

All I’d had to do was walk in, introduce myself, politely apologise and hand him the bag still clasped in my sweating fist. Instead, a minute later, I found myself standing in a brown and mustard yellow motel room, staring blankly at the zebra print bedspread on a circular seventies-era bed. I hadn’t apologised. I hadn’t given him the bag. I was still clutching it in my big, stupid, sweaty fist.

I hadn’t even managed to find out his name.

Fuck. I was such a loser.

Chapter 17

That Incubus Thing

Brian

Was this how I had to spend my evening now? Stuck in this motel room with nothing to do, agonisingly aware that the beautiful incubus was right next door?

I’d probably die of embarrassment if I went back in there and told him I didn’t actually need the room and wanted to check out immediately. He’d think I was even more of a loser.

So… I guessed that meant yes, this was how I was going to spend my night.

Fuck.

With a resigned sigh, I set the plastic bag down on the dresser and scrubbed a hand over my face. What the hell was I going to do all evening? Just sit in here and watch terrible TV from the zebra print bed?

I supposed I could watch porn. Jerk off. But would the beautiful incubus be able to sense it from the office next door? That would make me seem like even more of a perverted creep. He’d think I’d come to the motel he worked at and checked into a room just to masturbate all fucking evening. No, I couldn’t do that.

Shoulders sagging with resignation, I dragged my feet across the room to check out the bathroom, grimacing a little when I saw it was all—every single inch, from the tiles to the toilet—avocado green.