Hotel Across the Street
There's a voice in my head trying to tell me all the reasons we should not be fucking like bunnies in yet another hotel, but I don't give a fuck right now. My libido has taken over.
We practically sprint across the street, dodging traffic and earning a few honked horns. Logan's hand is warm in mine, his grip firm and sure. The hotel lobby is mercifully empty as we burst through the doors.
Logan approaches the desk, charm oozing from every pore. "We need a room. Now."
The clerk, a bored-looking young man, barely glances up from his computer. "How many nights?"
"Forever," Logan says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine.
The clerk's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"
"One," I correct Logan, elbowing his side.
"Cash or card?"
Logan slaps down a credit card. I try not to think about where he got it from or how he has access to funds so soon after being released.