Fueling His Hunger (Masters of Adrenaline 2)

Although if she was looking for adventure, maybe he was more interesting than the celebrity spawn that had been hanging out at that party.

“Besides, obviously you can trust me where it counts. You passed out last night and the worst thing I did was take your shoes off for you.”

The way she was watching his mouth made him wonder what she was thinking.

“Did I try to kiss you?” she asked.

He laughed. “Me? No. I’d assume you have better options than someone like me, and even if you’d tried, I would have politely declined.”

Pale brows drew together and he realized how the statement had sounded.

“I’m big on consent,” he went on, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Drunk means no.”

She flushed, her cheeks going bright pink. “I’m not usually a sloppy drunk, but I was feeling a little off last night. Thank you for being a gentleman.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, uncomfortable. “No woman should have to feel thankful a man didn’t victimize her.”

Her lips flattened into a thin, grim line. “True.”

When he stood and stretched, she walked shyly around him and ducked into the bathroom. A moment after the door closed, he heard the shower running.

Quickly, he texted his cousins, Fox and Atlas, and explained the situation. They called him an idiot, but that wasn’t unexpected considering they’d been calling him an idiot since he’d told them what was going on the night before.

Fifteen minutes later, the girl emerged, smelling of soap. Her hair was still damp.

“Sorry. That couldn’t wait.”

He nodded. “So am I coming with you or are you going alone?”

“Well . . . I’m going now.” She grimaced. “I don’t know how that works for your schedule, but I don’t want to go home.”

He hadn’t done anything this spontaneous in ages. Well, not since accidentally kidnapping her. Before that, though, it had been a long time.

“Fair enough. Do I have time to grab a shower?”

“If it’s fast.” She smiled teasingly, and this time it reached her eyes. Smiles—real ones—suited her.

He was done in record time, half expecting her to leave without him. As he toweled off, he wondered why he cared. Had he lost his damned mind? Maybe. But it would only be a few days.

Shit. What did she say her name was?

Something Shakespearean.

Juliet? No. Portia? Regan? Beatrice?

He’d been so distracted reading her body language, and trying to plan around the unexpected adventure, that her name had slipped his mind. Idiot.

The night before he’d paid cash, so they didn’t even have to check out. It was strange leaving a hotel without bags.

The day was bright, and he’d thought she’d have a headache, but she only grabbed her sunglasses from the visor and slipped them on before she even started the vehicle. Cordelia—he’d think of her as Cordelia for now.

“No headache?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, but he could see her wincing behind her shades.

“Well, I’m willing to take over anytime. How far do you want to go today?”

She shrugged. “Wherever we get to, I guess.”