ASHTON
Desire shimmers in her eyes as Demi closes the motel door behind us, the click of the lock sharp in the small room.
Rain still clings to my coat, droplets sliding down the fabric as she cups my chin to face her. The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything left unsaid since the airport.
She moves first.
Her hands find the lapels of my jacket, fingers working the buttons with deliberate care. Each one gives way beneath her touch until the garment hangs open.
She pushes it from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes never leave my face.
"I've thought about this," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the rain against the window. "Every night."
Her fingers trace the line of my collarbone through my shirt before she reaches for the hem, lifting it slowly. I raise my arms, letting her pull the fabric over my head. The cool air meets my skin, but her palms are warm as they press against my chest.
