Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) Read Online Free Page A

might be your type but certainly not mine.”
    “I prefer my women with a little more meat
on their bones,” Trace replied with a chuckle, putting the SUV in gear and
pulling around to the back of the building, the Escalade maneuvering slowly
through the unplowed snow before they returned to the main lot.
    Once they were parked in front of a door
marked with a tarnished number nine—which was hanging crooked and very well
could’ve been a six at one time—Trace climbed out.
    Marissa followed.
    After he had retrieved a duffel bag from the backseat, Trace joined her in front
of the door, inserted a key, and pushed it open with his foot.
    Instantly, Marissa’s nose wrinkled. A
musty smell wafted out of the room, but at least it was warm.
    “I’ll see you in—” Marissa didn’t get to
complete her sentence before Trace was nudging her into the room, closing the
door behind him, and engaging the locks.
    “What are you doing?”
    “We’re sharin’ a room, darlin’,” he said simply .
    Marissa turned, surveying the small,
cramped room while pretending not to have noticed the endearment. No, her eyes
weren’t playing tricks on her. “Then why’s there only one bed?” she asked,
confused.
    “Our new friend Tilly said that’s all they
have here.”
    Marissa frowned. Surely even a dump of a
motel such as this could have a room with double beds. Remembering that she
didn’t want to cause Trace any more problems, Marissa merely nodded and moved
farther inside. Flipping on a floor lamp near the wall heater, she glanced
around.
    Brown shag carpet,
chipped brown furniture, a thin beige bedspread and a picture of—Marissa wasn’t
sure what the picture was of, but it
had orange in the background—provided the only color in the room. If bland could be considered a color.
    Unless, of course, she included the man dressed from head to toe in black still standing
near the door.
    “You take the bed, I’ll take the floor,”
Trace imparted, nodding toward the no-frills mattress and setting the black
duffel down on the scarred dresser. “I brought you a change of clothes.”
    Marissa’s eyes flew up to meet Trace’s.
“What?”
    Trace cocked his head as though trying to
figure out if she’d hit her noggin and had knocked a few screws loose. Now that
she thought about it … well, it had been a really foolish question.
    “Never mind. I heard what you said,”
Marissa told him, shaking her head as she moved toward the bag. She wanted to throw her arms around him, allow Trace
to wrap her in the safety and security of his strong arms, grateful that he’d
saved her as well as thought about her well-being, but instead, she settled on
asking, “Mind if I take a shower?”
    Trace merely grunted, and Marissa took
that as consent. Grabbing the jeans and hoodie
he’d brought her—clearly something he’d snagged from her parents’ house in
Dallas—along with the white panties and bra (which made her face flame with
embarrassment at the mere sight), Marissa searched around inside the bag to see
if there were any … toiletries. Bless him. There was a travel-sized
shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, a toothbrush, and a small tube of
toothpaste.
    For now, Marissa could deal with this.
    Hugging her stash close to her body, she
once again surveyed the room, her eyes darting to Trace briefly and then back
to the only bed. Now, as for their sleeping arrangements…
    Ignoring the thought of being alone with
Trace for an unidentified amount of time, Marissa made her way into the claustrophobia-inducing
bathroom, closing the door behind her.           The
only positive thing she could say about the bathroom
… it appeared to be clean. And that very well could’ve been an
overstatement, but she was too tired to care.
    Finding the wobbly knob on the wall,
Marissa turned on the shower and took a step back. Thankfully, a minute or two
later, the room filled with steam as she managed to yank off her clothes,
tossing them into