Top Priority (The Game 1)

Oh, so he’d taken the bus. “Let me guess. Your connection was canceled because of the storm.”

“Bingo.”

Made sense. The highway had really been deserted earlier.

The hotel was in better shape than I expected for the run-down area of Richmond we were in. I’d slept in worse places during my stay in Georgia. No flashing neon sign on the outside, and the white paint on the building wasn’t peeling off the façade. Three stories. The lights were on in two windows.

“I’m gonna make you a deal, Lucas.” Colt stopped when we were under an awning right outside the sliding doors. “You’re sleepin’ in my room. I’m genuinely concerned from before—you were ice-cold—and…shit.” He scowled. “You didn’t mention anythin’. You didn’t say the bar was turnin’ you into a popsicle.”

I smiled, unable to help it. Daddy Colt was sweet.

“You think getting pneumonia’s fun?” he asked irritably.

I shook my head, still amused, but mostly touched. “Tell me more about this deal.” Taking a step closer, I looked him straight in the eye and waited.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not really.” I was honest. I was intoxicated enough to ignore some of my general rules about hookups, but not tipsy enough to call it the perfect buzz. And he was…too fucking sexy for his own good. Even more so now when he was wet from the rain. I drank him in, the way his T-shirt clung to his body, the drops of water glistening in his stubble. I wanted to strip him down and lick every—

“I’m not gonna make a single move on you,” he said.

My gaze flashed back to his, and I stiffened to hide my disappointment. Fuck. I’d been so sure—wait. He didn’t say he wasn’t interested.

“That’s the deal,” he went on. “You agree to stay in my room so I can make sure you get your body temperature up, and I won’t make a move.”

I would, though. He could fucking count on it.

“Lead the way,” I said.“You should take a hot shower,” he told me, opening the door to his hotel room. “I’ll be a good boy and separate the beds.”

No need. “I’m actually not that cold.” I felt the need to inform him.

He shook his head and dropped his wallet onto the desk. “That’s the booze talkin’.” Across the small room was the bed, and there was a chair by the window. Not much else would fit in here. Everything looked fresh and clean, though the dark-brown rug had seen better days.

Colt traveled light. An army-green daypack rested against the wall next to the bathroom door. There were a handful of patches on it, one of which stood out. The Air Force signature wings with a star in the middle.

Shit. A thought occurred to me. I’d forgotten my suitcase in my car.

“Hey. I’m serious.” Colt turned on the nightstand lamps and pointed at the bathroom. “Go take a shower.”

Bossy. If I weren’t already feeling the warmth of his concern, I would’ve argued for the sake of it.

I stepped out of my shoes and hung my tie on the knob of the door, then snuck into the bathroom and left the door ajar.

An amateur had done this bathroom with big ambitions. I could see they’d tried to mimic the clean hotel look with white tiles, a big sink, and a shower with a glass partition, but something had gotten in the way. Probably the budget. You got what you paid for, and that was unevenly placed tiles here and there, a leaking faucet, a slightly crooked towel rack, and one of the three dispensers in the shower had come loose. It rested on the floor instead.

I grimaced as I removed my belt and pushed down my pants. It felt great to finally come out of my wet clothes, but it was a struggle. And my skin was colder than I’d originally thought.

I’d better not get sick.

There was no bathtub, just a comfortably big shower, which sparked the thought that two grown men could easily fit in there.

Would he go for it?

I got rid of the last of my clothes and walked into the shower, turning the water on hot.

Hell, that’s it. I just stood there for a while, letting the warm water cascade down and loosen the tension in my muscles.

After a couple minutes, I called for Colt and poured some body wash into my hand.

“God,” I muttered to myself. It was the first time in a week I’d felt utterly relaxed and comfortable. Lust and mental images of Colt sparked when I soaped up my cock, and I wondered how long he was going to be before he got here. He better not have fallen asleep. “Colt?”

“Right here, darlin’.”

“Jesus.” I looked over my shoulder and saw him leaning casually against the sink, ankles crossed, arms folded over his chest. “What’re you doing?”

“Enjoying the view?”

I shook my head, amused. “Join me instead, Captain.”