chapter 8

We barely make it back to the hotel room Kian is staying in.

The town is small enough that it’s in walking distance from the bar, but we keep getting held up as we stop to kiss and grope at each other like horny teenagers. The only thing keeping me from dragging him into another alley and demanding he fuck me right there is the fact that I want more room to maneuver. I want to be able to see him naked—every single damn inch of him—and that’s harder to accomplish in a dingy alley than it is in a hotel room with a door.

The door in question almost comes off its hinges when we burst into the hotel room like a hurricane, and Kian slams it shut with so much force that I swear I hear the wood crack. But the integrity of a hotel room door is the furthest thing from my mind now that I’ve got what I want.

Kian. Alone.

We crash through the room in a chaotic tangle of limbs, running into walls and practically knocking over a dresser as our hands roam hungrily over each other’s bodies, lips locke