There was only one motel room left, and the storm made it non-negotiable.

"You snore, you die,"

you said, grabbing the bed closest to the window.

Derek chuckled, tossing his go-bag down.

"I’ll keep it down if you promise not to steal all the covers."

"Touch my covers, Morgan, and I’m sleeping on your face."

His grin turned wicked. "Don’t threaten me with a good time."