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“Don’t you fuckin’ dare—”
I didn’t wait for the rest of his no doubt very passionate, alpha order. I hung up the phone.
It rang immediately.
I snickered, answering it. “You can call me all you want,” I told him, opening my closet. “It’s not going to stop or change anything. You can take out all your anger on me when we see each other. I’m bringing the vibrator.”
“Vio—”
I hung up.
Then I shoved some things in a bag, put on my clothes and did exactly what Elden told me not to do.
I drove across the country, alone, in the middle of the night to go to him.
He was there before me. Sitting on his bike in the parking lot, looking every bit like the hot, dangerous outlaw he was. The sun was beating down on him, and he was wearing dark shades and a scowl.
The motel itself was in the middle of nowhere, but it had a bunch of great ratings because a brother and sister had inherited it as a crumbling roadside motel and turned it into a social media sensation, a throwback to the seventies, with bright colors, every room styled differently with contrasting prints and colors. An ode to a bygone era when there weren’t chains littering the interstate, when people cared more, when family road trips were taken off the beaten track.
I adored it.
Although I didn’t get a moment to properly take it in since my door opened the moment I put my car in park.
“You are in so much fucking trouble,” Elden growled, leaning over me to turn the car off and snatch the keys before taking me bodily from the car.
He threw me over his shoulder. Literallythrew me over his shoulder. I let out a little yelp of surprise and delight as he opened the back door to grab the bag I’d thrown in there.
Keys jangled as he stomped us toward a block of rooms. Apparently, he’d already checked in. It was lucky it was the middle of the week in off season since this place was normally booked out.
“Um, is everything okay here?” an uncertain voice asked.
A man in his mid-twenties wearing a Hawaiian shirt, fluorescent shorts and flip-flops had been exiting his room and encountered a biker throwing a girl over his shoulder. And though he definitely didn’t look like he could take Elden on, he had stepped in anyway.
What a sweetheart.
Maybe the world hadn’t gone entirely to shit.
“Fuck off,” Elden grumbled.
I smacked his shoulder and did my best to smile reassuringly from my spot.
“Everything is fine. He has my full consent to do this, even if it’s totally over the top and unnecessary,” I added.
Elden didn’t want to see if the guy believed me or not. He strode toward a door, unlocked it then slammed it behind us.
I didn’t even get a moment to delight in how funky the room was. My bag was dumped at the door then Elden stomped in the direction of the bathroom.
“You’re acting like a caveman,” I pointed out, not struggling because I didn’t exactly hate the caveman routine.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled. “I’m so fuckin’ mad at you. Can’t decide whether I’m gonna fuck you or punish you.”
My whole body reacted to the primal tone, the words. My toes curled in preparation for either.
Elden reached inside the shower stall to turn the water on. He set me on my feet, my legs unsteady as his furious, hungry glare fastened on me.
His hand circled around my neck. Not hard. Not enough to hurt. More than enough to melt my fucking panties, though.
“You’re in so much fuckin’ trouble,” he rasped.
