Chapter 7
Aidan drove. Ink had offered, with a perfectly innocent expression. Aidan had said, “Do you know how to drive a truck?” and Ink had said “No” far too sweetly, and Aidan had had to laugh, and shake his head, and smack that pert little ass one more time as Ink hopped up into the truck’s cab. Ink had beamed and found a blanket to curl up under, seeming content to stay naked beneath that.
They found a hotel. The drive wasn’t long, and the town was full of neon and lights and casino glitter. Aidan had feelings about hotels, and those feelings were sometimes complex. His parents never stayed anywhere not exclusive, five-star, and soaked in money; he’d made it a point of pride to do the opposite, for a rebellious while. He also appreciated at least a certain degree of comfort, and com
