“My headache hasn’t gone. Do you have any painkillers with you?”
I lean forward to reach into my purse strewn at my feet.
“Shit! Ouch! Crap that stings!” I fling back into my previously reclined position, the biting burn of my stitches pulling, and then easing ever so slightly as I reach under my shirt and attempt to rearrange the position of the dressing that’s tugging at the sensitive skin around the wound. I wince as my cold fingers come into contact with the hot skin around the incision.
“What? Fuck, what’s happened? What’s wrong?” Ethan asks, jerking the car to the side of the road, panic clear in his voice as he comes to an abrupt stop. The action has me jolting forward in my seat and the seatbelt locks, stopping me from being propelled forward, but tightening across my stomach in the process and causing even more pain.
“Blair, what’s wrong?” he shouts, pulling me from my thoughts of how much this sucks right now.
“Relax, baby, I’m fine. My stitches just pulled,” I manage to grind out as I’m frantically trying to unbuckle myself and release the pressure over my tummy.
“Here, let me…there, is that better?” he asks leaning over and releasing the buckle for me. I let out a huge sigh of relief as I try to straighten my body out in the cramped confines of the Camaro.
“Damn, you near on just gave me heart failure! You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie. The pain is making me feel nauseous, but the look of panic in his eyes is making me feel worse.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry. The pain just caught me off guard.”
“Princess, you don’t have to apologize.”
“I have painkillers in the front pocket of my purse. Can you reach them for me? I think I need to pop a couple of them suckers now, too.”
He regards me with a concerned look before retrieving the little white container of pills. “Here,” he passes them over with a bottle of water he has rested in the side of his door.
“You want a couple?” I ask as I pop the lid and shake two chalky white capsules into the palm of my hand.
“Yeah, but I’m gonna find us a motel first. I can’t concentrate with this headache, and you’re not exactly in a position to drive,” he says, rubbing his temples. “Plus, let me see those.” He reaches out and takes the bottle from me. “Yeah, thought so. The warning states that they’ll make you drowsy. Can’t take them and then drive,” he frowns.
“We don’t seem to have gotten very far. At this rate it will take us a week to drive home.”
“You’re saying that like it would be the end of the world to spend a week stuck in my car with me,” he laughs.
“Um, there are only so many car games I can play before I want to murder someone,” I grin as his eyes widen.
“Okay. Mental note to self: car games are not Blair’s thing.”
“I don’t mind playing a few, but when we’re scraping the barrel and you’re inventing games like, What Dinosaur Would You Be? I get a little crazy.”
“What Dinosaur Would You Be? Huh. I have that weird déjà vu thing going on. We’ve played that, right? And FYI, it sounds like it would be an epic car game.”
“Did you really just say FYI?” I giggle. “You sound like Brie, and yeah, we’ve played it.”
“Okay, so first you make out like it's a bad thing to be stuck in the car with me, and now you're telling me I talk like a girl. Are you always this complementary?” he asks with a wink. My god, I love it when he does that. I sigh and his dimples make a welcomed appearance.
“Are you having dirty thoughts about me?”
“WHAT!” I scoff, “No, not at all.”
“Shame, I’m having all kinds of kinky thoughts about you.”
I feel the heat spread from my cheeks, straight down my chest and shoot south.
“Shut up,” I laugh and push at his side.
“What? I'm serious. It’s the weird little snort you do when you laugh,” he says nodding his head and biting down on his lower lip. “It’s like it has a direct dial to my di—”
“Oh my god! Shut up!”
“Why? It’s true!” he says, grinning from ear to ear.
He knows he’s embarrassing the hell out of me, and he’s enjoying it. Maybe I should let him carry on, my pride can take a knock if it keeps that gorgeous smile on his face.
“Okay, enough with the snort fetish, pervert...let's get to a motel.”
“See, you are having dirty thoughts. And now you’re trying to get me to some seedy roadside motel, so you can have your wicked way with me. Admit it.”
I want to act all cool and calm, but even though he’s mocking me, the suggestion of a motel has totally got my mind in the gutter.
“I thought you had a headache.”
“I do, but research shows that sex actually helps get rid of them—something to do with the endorphins released.”
“You really are a perv!” I smile.
“Takes one to know one. Besides…you love it.”
“Calm it, Casanova. Let’s go find a room.”