Page 42 of Thanks for Coming Along
She had to go without underwear because everything was soaked… for multiple reasons, one of them was due to a downright indecent reason. The shirt was oversized and reached her mid-thigh, but the thought that she was bare under the oversized t-shirt in such close proximity to Ronan made her slick with need. She took a deep breath. She would try to behave herself tonight even if those condoms were burning a hole in her purse.
As she opened the bathroom door, her eyes immediately landed on a damp Ronan seated in a chair beside a life-sized clown figurine. The dampness accentuated his features, making him even more attractive to her. His dark hair was slicked back, and his t-shirt clung to his well-defined physique, emphasizing his muscular biceps, chest, and trim waist. Her breath caught in her throat as she quickly averted her gaze and focused on the peculiar oil painting of a clown family above the queen-sized bed. It was a family of clowns gathered around a dining table eating pot roast. How quaint.
"God, Eden. You’re killing me," he muttered, his voice rough, running a hand through his wet hair. Eden could tell he was still pissed from earlier when she'd decided it was a good idea to skip the helmet and ride the bike in the pouring rain. Definitely not her brightest decision.
"Sorry about earlier," she said quickly. "It was just so much fun riding in the rain. It’s rare for it to rain here." As she spoke, his eyes locked on her face, then traveled down, leaving a sizzling trail from her breasts to her thighs. His gaze seemed to sear into her skin, making her feel overheated instantly.
He rose from the chair and moved closer, his body standing at her side.
He leaned in closer to her and whispered, "Secret?" His warm breath brushed against the side of her face.
"I'm not talking about earlier, Devil. I am talking about that thin fucking t-shirt showing me exactly what I can't have." He murmured softly into her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine as it tickled the shell of her ear. A slight tremor coursed through her body at the intimate sensation.
Then, she heard the bathroom door click shut gently. For a few heart-pounding seconds, she stood there. Stuck to the carpet under her bare feet, her mind speeding like a runaway train. Her thighs instinctively pressed together as she mentally thanked the heavens for the earlier release, or she would have likely ripped the bathroom door off the hinges and had her way with him.
She grabbed her phone and walked to the motel room's covered balcony. It was now dark out. The rain had stopped but left behind a sleek street, the red lights of the motel sign reflecting off the glossy asphalt, distorting the text. She dialed Ingrid's phone number, knowing that Ingrid was likely preparing her dinner after ballet practice.
"Hey Baby! What's happening over in La La land?" Ingrid's voice rang on the other line.
"Help me! I am alone in a motel room with Ronan, and I can't be trusted with my raging hormones. He looks so good wet, and he touched my neck earlier. And I may have orgasmed on his back when we were riding his motorcycle." Though Eden spoke rapidly, she heard the clatter of a spoon dropping to the floor over the phone line.
"Wait, what? You did what on his back? Start from the beginning!" Ingrid demanded, and Eden heard her turning off the stove. With a deep breath, Eden recounted the events, starting when Ingrid left a week ago. She offered a condensed version, knowing she only had a few free minutes until Ronan came out of the bathroom.
"Eden, holy shit. You've definitely made up your mind. You want him. Just please, please be careful. Promise me!" Ingrid's voice carried a mix of astonishment and concern.
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Eden replied, "I will try my hardest. I don't think I have ever met someone like him. I really like him, Indy." Ingrid sighed deeply on the other end of the line.
"I know, and that's okay. I just don't want to see you get hurt again,” her voice lowered with genuine worry.
"Me too," Eden said solemnly. She saw movement inside the motel room from the glass sliding door.
"I got to go. He's out of the shower," she whispered, her hand cupping over her phone.
"Okay, play it by ear. Don't just jump into something with him. See if he's genuine first." They said a quick goodbye, then Eden opened the sliding glass door and closed it behind her.
"I might have to leave a less-than-stellar review. The water pressure in the shower is seriously lacking. Everything else about the place is great, but that weak water pressure is really holding this motel back from getting a solid 5 stars.," Ronan said sarcastically as he laid out all of his wet clothes from his backpack to dry.
"They should open a chain of these clown motels and call them the Discomfort Inn," Eden said as she busied herself with laying out her wet clothes on the surfaces of the desk and chair to air dry. She could hear Ronan chuckle lightly at her lame joke. In silence, they continued to lay out all their soaked clothes.
"I can sleep on the floor tonight. I don't mind. I am used to barrack beds from my time overseas,” Ronan said casually, as if sleeping on the stained, questionable carpet was a solid sleeping option. Eden shuddered at the thought of what might be lurking in the fibers of the motel's floor, probably bedbugs wearing clown masks.
"That is crazy. There is enough room in the bed," she said with a subtle tremble in her voice, hoping her voice didn't give away her nervousness.
"Are you sure? I don't want you to be uncomfortable," he replied. He seemed to be purposefully avoiding eye contact, his back facing her.
"Yeah, it's totally fine," Eden said casually, even though her palms were damp and her heart was sprinting in her chest. She grabbed her phone and her charger and plugged it into the wall. She heard the bed squeak from Ronan's weight sitting on it, and she looked over at him, his damp hair leaning against the bed's headboard. It was a stirring sight. Ronan leisurely laid back on the bed. His long limbs strewn over the covers, the ridiculous clown shirt stretched over his chest, and his gym shorts exposing his muscular thighs and calves.
"Is it okay if I take this side?" He asked casually. If he was aware of her ogling, he didn't make it obvious. He was sitting on the side of the bed closest to the door and the terrifying life-size clown.
"Sure, I didn't want to be too close to Bozo over there anyway," she said, pointing to the clown figure lurking in the room's corner. Ronan responded with a crooked smile. She approached the other side of the bed, determined to keep her cool.
Sitting down, she reminded herself not to touch or look at him. She hurried back against the pillows and swung her legs on the bed, causing her t-shirt to rise slightly.
She saw Ronan's eyes flash to the hem out of the corner of her eye. His eyes seemed to burn a path on her upper thighs. Panicked, she hastily pulled her legs under the covers and drew the blanket up to her chin. She felt like a sick Victorian child in the dead of winter.
"Good night, Ronan," she whispered as she slipped under the covers, positioning herself to face the wall. She was doing her best to avoid temptation in the form of Ronan Murphy, lying just inches away. The anticipation simmered within her, and she felt like she might burst into flames at any moment. Her scalp tingled, and her limbs felt as heavy as lead.
She sensed his weight shifting on the bed, the mattress creaking in response. Then, he lifted the covers, sending a gust of chilly air under the sheets. She shivered as the cold air brushed against her bare legs.
