tease me for being a pansy. He simply places his palm on my bouncing knee and continues to watch the movie.
He hasn’t touched the popcorn, and he’s barely sipped from his soda since we sat down.
Heat radiates from his palm, and although it’s a simple, non-sexual touch, it does make me feel safer.
The credits roll without him pulling his hand back, and when I look over at him, it’s easy to see how exhausted he is.
“Wanna watch the next one?” he asks, his voice slow and tired.
“There’s more?” I turn to face him, careful not to shift the weight of my lower body so he doesn’t feel obligated to pull his hand back.
“They’re showing movies back-to-back through the end of the weekend, but the tickets are only good if we stay.”
“I’m tired.” He blinks, his eyes slow to reopen, and it’s clear that he’s losing energy fast. “But I don’t want to go home.”
His fingers flex and the next second he pulls his hand away.
“We could get a hotel room.”
“Remi.” He shakes his head, the movement looking like it takes a lot of effort.
God, I love the abbreviation of my name coming from a man so serious all the time.
“Not for that. I just don’t want to go home. There’s a nice hotel four blocks up. We don’t even have to move the car.”
That’s the great thing about New York, everything is within walking distance when you’re in the city.
“Think you can walk a couple blocks?”
His head pulls back like I’ve lost my mind to even ask, and I have no doubt the man would attempt a jog around the block if he was challenged.
“Come on.” I slap the inside of his thigh before standing. “You’re not going to last much longer.
“I’ll last all night long if you need me to.” He coughs when he realizes just how sexual the words sound, quickening his steps to move to the aisle.
Chapter 9
Flynn
It’s not the movies that exhausted me. I used to watch those same shows with my dad all the time.
Even though I’ve seen them a million times each and the scary parts seem cheesy now compared to more modern movies, I still get a sense of nostalgia watching them.
I’m just… off.
Blaming it on lack of sleep, I don’t even argue when Remington insists on putting the suite in her name. I opt to lounge on the sofa in the lobby and wait, having to be woken up by a tap on the shoulder when she’s finished with check-in. She could’ve easily bolted. Hell, she could’ve done that when she went to the restroom earlier. I’d like to say I have faith she’d stick around, but I glared down at the app Wren had me add to my phone while waiting for her cell phone to track outside of the building. It never did, and she came right back. She could be luring me into a false sense of security or maybe she’s smart enough not to take off on foot in the middle of the night since her car keys are in my pocket. Either way, the night has been predominately uneventful.
“There are two rooms, both with en suite bathrooms, but I’m going to pull the diva card and insist on the one on the west side. I don’t want to wake up at dawn and hotel curtains aren’t always reliable at keeping the sun out.”
“S-fine,” I mumble, my head growing heavier by the second. “Are you going to take off? I’m so fucking tired, Remi. Can we call a truce for one night?”
“I’m pretty tired myself,” she whispers, her eyes locked on the elevator button panel. “I’m not taking off. Feel free to sleep in front of the door if you don’t believe me, though.”
Honestly, I think I’d be able to sleep anywhere at this point, but I just don’t have the energy to open my mouth with that confession.
When we enter the suite, I loathe the thought of her heading in the opposite direction of me. I don’t want her in my bed. Okay, that’s mostly the truth. Her in my bed breeds a million horrible outcomes, but even in my exhaustion, I’m just not ready to be apart from her. If I were more rested, I’d probably lose my shit over how clingy I’m feeling.
“Let’s watch a movie,” I say, dragging my ass toward the sofa in the center of the suite.
“We just watched two movies,” she reminds me, but I plop down on the couch gracelessly.
“A