“Have you been here before?” Jesse’s voice cuts in as we step inside the main entrance of the National Archives Museum.

“No, but it’s a place I’ve always been curious about.”

“Do you like history?”

“Yeah, some. I’ve always enjoyed learning about the early American colonies and the founding of our nation.” My eyes scan the space for a ticket window. “Who do we pay for admission?”

“No one. There’s no charge.”

“You’re kidding? I didn’t think anything was free anymore.”

“Why do you think it’s one of my favorite places?” he jests. “Excuse me for one minute.” He holds up a finger and walks over to shake the hand of one of the group guides. They share a brief conversation before Jesse returns. “Let me lead you to the big dogs. We can start there and then figure out what else interests you.”

“Sounds like a plan, but don’t we need to be with a guide?”

“No, that’s Hal,” he nods toward the guide he spoke to. “I have permission to show you around.” He leads me to the Rotunda for the Charters of Freedom on the upper level. It’s a semicircular room that was designed to permanently display the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution of the United States and the Bill of Rights.

My feet move on their own toward the glass cases located in a semi-circle near the back of the room. Seeing the faded parchment that our forefathers created sends a thrill through me, even if it’s through thick glass and dimly lit. “Why is the Declaration of Independence so faded?” Jesse flashes me a quick grin. “What?”

“Now you’re going to see my history geek side in action. Don’t let it detract from the Jesse Gunn you know and adore.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“The specially sealed encasement the parchment is in contains argon with a controlled amount of humidity which keeps the parchment flexible. But this wasn’t always the case. Unfortunately, it spent thirty-five years on the wall in the Patent Office Building with direct exposure to sunlight.” He spouts off facts like he’s employed to do so. I find the history geek in him undeniably sexy.

“That’s too bad. I’m glad they’re doing what they can to preserve it now.” Staring at this document that has so much history behind it, I’m speechless. Thinking of how our forefathers signed this parchment, that it’s probably the most important document in our country's history and that I’m viewing it in person floors me.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

“What?”

“The sense of pride this document instills. Words are powerful.”

I nod in agreement. Any reply I’d come up with would be inadequate and couldn’t do it justice.

We wander around studying the walls of the rotunda where artist Barry Faulkner painted some of the largest single piece oil-on-canvas murals in the world. They’re beautiful and gargantuan in size, completely awe-inspiring.

Shivering from the cool air, I tug my sleeves down over my hands. “You cold?” Jesse wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to his length. Our thighs bump as we walk side by side. When we pause to look at The United States Constitution, he maneuvers me until I’m standing in front of him. Wrapping both arms around my waist, he lowers his chin until it rests on my shoulder. “They have to keep the temperature cooler in here to help preserve everything. There’s no sunlight and you’re not allowed to take flash pictures either.”

“Aren’t you just a fountain of information?” I joke.

“I warned you my geek side was coming out.”

We spend another hour wandering around the remainder of the museum before people start to recognize Jesse. It begins with a whispered gasp followed by staring. “Is that Jesse Gunn?” Before we know it, everyone in the place knows it is indeed, Jesse.

He takes it all in stride and is clearly comfortable no matter what situation he finds himself in. He genuinely cares for his fans and it shines through in every interaction he has. He makes them each smile with his larger than life personality. I find myself grinning just watching him work his magic. I make sure to snap some candid shots of him signing autographs and good naturedly posing for pictures outside. Before we know it, the time has come to head to our hotel and check in.

“Jesse,” I softly call his name as we walk toward the rental. The spring air is crisp and fresh.

He glances down at me. “What’s up?”

“Thanks for bringing me here. I had a great time.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe, I am. A little bit.”

“I’m glad you came with me. I like spending time with you, Lilah. You better get used to it.”

* * *

Alone at last.

Exhaling a sigh, I sink down onto the bed, with my cellphone in hand. Leaning my head back against the headboard, I close my eyes and enjoy the peaceful moment. I’m relieved to be alone in my room, away from Jesse and his all-seeing eyes. I’m not sure how much more of him I could take without doing something I’d regret - like kissing his lips or dry humping his leg. Although I’m sure he’d enjoy either option, I really am trying to keep things professional. It’s damn near impossible when he looks at me so intensely. His warm, gray eyes hurtle tingling sparks of longing through every part of me.

My head fights to keep our relationship strictly professional knowing things are simpler that way. My body on the other hand, has a completely different agenda. I’m ready to go up in flames whenever he wants to set me on fire. One fiery touch from him and I’d gladly burn to ashes.

Spending the morning with Jesse showed me other sides of his personality I’d never witnessed before. With each new piece I discover, I become more attracted to him. He’s a history geek? I don’t remember seeing that piece of information in his bio. I’ve noticed he has a great rapport with his fans during shows, but I’ve never paid much attention to it outside of the arena, until today.

Snapping my eyes open, I check the time on my phone and realize I need to stop all this daydreaming about Jesse and focus on my job. The job I’m happy to have and would like to keep.

Logging into @TheJesseGunn, Jesse’s IG account, I type out a post - Breakfast of champions #HealthyAppetite and upload a picture of him from this morning. The amount of food on his plate is comical and the mischievous expression on his face will have his followers melting.

Scrolling through the pictures I took outside of the museum, I pause on one shot. His hands are on his hips and I captured him in profile. His gaze riveted on something off in the distance, he looks like a giant with the muscles in his arms bulging through his gray, long sleeve shirt.

Pulling up Jesse’s Twitter account I look it over and realize that since the first time I used the road trip hashtag his followers have increased by twenty thousand, and that’s just in one day. Getting down to business, I like and retweet some posts before I log into WCW’s Twitter account and type a new one - #roadtrip with @TheJesseGunn. I add the picture I took at the museum. Almost immediately the feed blows up with comments and retweets. His fans are eating up this road trip thing. My father is going to notice and with my luck, he’ll make me stay on the road with Jesse. I’ll be living out of a suitcase for the foreseeable future and spending every spare second with Jesse. Admittedly, the second part of that doesn’t sound so bad.

* * *

Hearing knuckles rapping on my door, is not something I expected. Peeking through the peephole, I find Jesse’s large frame filling the space. Resting my forehead against the cold door, I whisper, “no, no, no.” I’m not ready to see him again. I was prepared to catch an Uber to the arena for the sole purpose of avoiding being in his company.

Jesse knocks again, louder this time. “Lilah, open up,” he commands.

Shit.

Straightening up, I run both hands down the black wrap dress I’m wearing and smooth a hand over my hair. I hope I look okay. I couldn’t stomach the thought of having someone fuss over my hair and makeup. Yesterday, I didn’t have a choice, but today we checked into the hotel and all my things are with me.

His heavy fist impatiently thumps against the door once more and I know it’s time to face him. Clasping the handle, I tug the door open. Leaning against the back side of it, I use it as a shield between us, peeking my head around the edge. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you ready to go?” he questions, abruptly.

“Hi, Lilah. How are you?” I jest, making fun of his brusque behavior and lack of manners.

“Hi, Lilah. How are you? Is your sexy ass ready to go?”

“You think my ass is sexy?” I inquire doing my best to keep my tone even, while silently chanting Jesse Gunn thinks my ass is sexy. Jesse Gunn thinks my ass is sexy. My stomach pathetically flutters at the thought of him finding any part of me attractive.

“Is this a trick question? Stop digging for compliments and grab your shit. We need to get going.”

“Wow, aren’t you Mr. Sunshine tonight.” Rolling my eyes, I continue, “I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t want to ride to the arena with you if you’re going to be a grouch. Feel free to go without me. I’m a big girl and can safely find my way there.”

“Lilah, don’t even start. Let’s go.” He crooks his finger at me, his lips pressed into a closed mouth smile, but his smoky eyes show no sign of humor.

I step back from the door to grab my blazer from the closet. He moves forward, plucking it from my fingers, holding it for me as I slip each arm into a sleeve. Sliding it up onto my shoulders, he frees my long, wavy hair from underneath. His fingertips comb slowly, almost reverently through the strands, before he presses a gentle kiss on the top of my head. My pulse races from the tender gesture.

Who is this guy?

Before our road trip, I thought he was sexy, macho, conceited, persistent and not much more beyond that. But I’d only been fooling myself out of necessity. I didn’t want to admit he embodies so many wonderful qualities. However, spending all this time in his company has forced me to admit, he’s still sexy, but he’s also intelligent, protective, easy going, thoughtful, funny, personable... and the list could go on.

His warm palms settle on my shoulders, heating me with his touch. Leaning down, he traces the length of my neck with his nose. “You always smell so fucking good.”

My eyes reflexively shut at the deep rumble of his voice in my ear. His lips land on the curve of bare skin between my neck and shoulder; my head falls back with an audible sigh. His lips softly stroke back and forth, slowly teasing my delicate flesh until I break out in goosebumps.

Large hands slither down my arms to wrap around my stomach, one banding my rib cage and the other drifting under my blazer, searing through the material of my dress into the skin along the edge of my panties. My knees weaken when I feel the whisk of his tongue and the sting of his teeth as he continues to make love to my neck.

His tightening embrace functions like two restraints wrapped around me, holding my arms at my sides. As much as I’ve been trying to keep things on a professional level, I surprise myself by giving in to the moment and letting him continue. I don’t ever want his lips to stop this blissful torture.

Pressing his hard cock against my ass until I can feel every rigid inch, he groans when I arch back into him. “You little tease,” he growls and lays a string of biting kisses under my jaw.

I gasp and sink my nails into the outside of my thighs.

His arm around my ribs releases and his hand slides up over the curve of my breast, gliding up my chest. His palm pauses on the front of my neck, gently squeezing, showing me he’s in control.

As if I didn’t already know.

He cups my cheek, urging my head over my shoulder and captures my lips with his. Both hands grip my breasts while he rubs his cock against my ass. Now that my arms are free of his hold, I wrap them around the back of his neck. My fingers clench his dark strands, tugging as our tongues wage war, mouths moving urgently with undisguised need.

Tearing his lips from mine with a growl, his hands move to my hips, driving me two steps forward away from him. I spin around, my hand over my mouth still caught up in the surprise of what just happened.

“We need to go,” he states. His chest rapidly rises and falls with ragged breaths; a result of our heated kiss. “If we don’t leave now, I’m going to lift that dress and make your pussy mine.”

“Oh,” I reply, not sure what to say. My wide eyes dart away in search of my purse. I can’t look in his direction. I’m so close to begging him to do whatever he wants to me. I notice my uncomfortably damp panties with each step I take toward my purse lying on the end of the bed. They’re an unneeded reminder of how much the lust I feel for him can cloud my judgement.

How am I going to continue to resist him?