A/N: Thank you to Anon, xKimberly12x, Blackhat, ThatGirl54, ChelleLew, xSamiliciousx, Emmetluver2010, benova13, AnonforNow, JoMode, Guest, and MJ for the fab reviews. Also, a special thank-you to CelticPrincessx3. Love you all! :)

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth thought that knowing about her husband's cheating was the worst possible experience in the world. After all, what could be more appalling? What could be more stress-inducing than knowing that about her husband?

She resumed riding the bus with John. Even if it did mean being forced to watch him interact with Melissa. Whereas before he'd been so circumspect she hadn't entertained the notion that he was even interested in the young woman, now he was brazen. Melissa kept up a good front around coworkers, or so Elizabeth thought, but as soon as the bus was in motion all façades were dropped.

It made her physically ill to see them together. Not out of jealousy, but out of pure disgust. The man had never been that hands-on with her. Nor had he ever spouted so many lewd comments. Had he? Maybe she'd just forgotten over the ensuing years of their marriage.

Within an hour of her first night back on the bus, she wondered why she was putting herself through such torture. Out the corner of her eye she saw John grope Melissa's ass while she bent over to pick up something off the floor. For some reason she turned her head, and John's eyes caught hers. And she knew why.

His warning had been very clear. If she pretended they were anything but a happily married couple, he would see to it that both she and Dean were fired.

So she kept silent. She kept her eyes on her phone, even though no one was texting her. Even though she'd already caught up on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram, she kept looking at the screen. When she heard John whispering, then Melissa giggling softly, then the rustle of clothing and movement, she stared at her phone's screen.

It was either that or go insane.

"Elizabeth," John called. "Come kiss me goodnight."

She would much rather go up front and kiss the always sweaty driver, who smelled of raw onions. But, biting her tongue, she clutched her phone and stood, letting her gaze sweep over to her husband and his lover.

His topless lover.

"Nice, aren't they?" he commented. He had an arm around her, and his hand cupped one bare breast.

Elizabeth said nothing. Still biting her tongue, she moved her stare to a point above their heads.

"John's going to get me implants," Melissa announced.

"How…wonderful." Elizabeth forced the words between clenched teeth.

"C'mere," John murmured, beckoning to her. Like she was a dog being commanded to heel.

She thought of spitting in his face. She thought of grabbing Melissa by her bleached hair and throwing her to the floor. She thought of going up to the sweaty, onion-smelling driver and begging he let her off at the next exit.

Then she thought of Dean. And how damned much his career meant to him. With an air of compliance, she stepped forward, leaned down, and accepted John's quick kiss. "Good night," she whispered, backing away before he could touch her anymore.

"You can have the bed tonight. We've got a few things to work on so we'll just pull out the couch." John stretched out his legs, the hand not holding Melissa's breast adjusting the bulge in his shorts.

Was she supposed to thank him? She drew in a breath to mutter some sort of agreement when she noticed that his hand had slipped down into the front of Melissa's jeans. Stomach roiling with repulsion, she pressed her lips together and gave a short nod.

Dean. She was doing this for him. She was going to grin and bear it for him.

Grabbing her purse and bag, Elizabeth headed to the back of the bus. Melissa's moan reached her ears and, goddamn everything, she looked over her shoulder. She saw that the jeans had been shed, John's mouth was on one puckered nipple, and the assistant was pushing his hand between her legs.

Nauseated, Elizabeth hurried into the bedroom. She turned to close and lock the door, the image of their foreplay on the couch burning itself in her mind.

She stared at the neatly made bed, then at the little built-in shelves on either side. An alarm clock, a few books. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Tentatively, she drew back the covers and sucked in a deep breath. Fresh. Clean. Thank god.

She spent longer than necessary in the shower, using up all the hot water as she tried to wash what she'd just witnessed out of her head. When she returned to the bedroom, she crawled into bed. Trying her best not to think of how many times John had fucked Melissa atop the mattress, she grabbed her phone. She had forgotten to double-check what time they'd be getting to the next hotel. Setting her alarm at a random time, she then reached into the drawer on her side of the bed for the spare iPhone charger. It wasn't in there, but several other things were.

An eyeglasses case. Strawberry-flavored lip balm. Strawberry-scented hand cream. A small tube of warming lubricant. A bullet-shaped tube of lipstick. She attempted to pull off the cap to see the color, already knowing it wasn't hers, only to realize that it was a vibrator. Shuddering, she threw it all back into the drawer and slammed it shut.

Crawling across to John's side of the bed, she reached for the bottle of hand sanitizer behind the alarm clock. She used a liberal amount to clean her hands then checked his drawer for the charger.

Breath mints. Not his usual kind, but the ones in a tin that boasted of being curiously strong. A box of condoms. A larger tube of lubricant. A package of personal wet wipes. And, in the back, still in its package, a sex toy. She had to read the packaging to see exactly what its function was, only to drop the package back into the drawer when she saw that it was an anal plug.

She used another liberal amount of hand sanitizer before getting her purse and digging around for her charger. Tucking her earphones into her ear, she was quick to start playing music on her iPod, wanting to make sure she blocked out any sounds that could reach her. Just as she was about to set the phone aside so she could try to go to sleep, a message popped up on the screen.

U ok?

Dean. She smiled, replying that she was about to bed down. Hadn't he told her he hated texting?

Get some sleep. Just wanted to check on u.

Then, while she was thinking of how to tell him she doubted she would get any sleep, two more messages came through.

Ro snoring in back. Seth drivin. I can't sleep. Wish u were here.

Kinda really wanna kiss u.

Elizabeth grinned, the stress of her time since boarding the bus ebbing away.

Sorry Roman's snoring. Why can't you sleep?

The next song that began to play was one he'd sung at the motel. Of course, all the songs on her iPod were ones he'd sung along to. The man was a walking jukebox. But this one had surprised her. She hadn't thought him one to appreciate Dean Martin. Nevertheless, he'd belted it out, his voice drowning out the noise of his shower.

Don't know. Keyed up. Can u talk?

Was that his way of checking if John was at her side? She thought so at first. As she tapped out a reply, though, she reminded herself that he probably didn't give a damn who was possibly hanging over her shoulder.

Yeah, I can talk.

Her phone began to vibrate almost immediately. As though he hadn't even waited for her reply before calling. Pulling out one earphone, she connected and brought the phone to her ear. "Hey."

"Why aren't you asleep?" he asked by way of greeting.

"Because some idiot keeps texting me," she answered, his laugh warming her.

"Really? Tell 'em to fuck off." His sighed, voice softening. "You sure you're okay?"

"I… It's not a picnic," she admitted. "It's… Well, I can deal." It's horrible and I hate it. But you're making it easier. And yes I'm tired and want to sleep but please don't hang up yet.

She heard a voice in the background. Seth. Dean muttered something in reply then cleared his throat. "Seth wants to know if you're hitting the house shows this weekend."

"Last I heard, I am. Ring announcing."

"Sweet." He dragged the syllable out. "You can carpool with us."

"They won't mind?" she asked warily.

"If they mind they can get the fuck over it. Don't worry about it, Lizzie."

Don't worry? Right. "You sure you want to ride with me again?"

"Course I'm sure. I already checked the weather. Not a chance of snow. Which means we can make you drive."

"Asshole," she muttered. "I did alright driving in the snow."

"Sweetheart, the car seat embedded in my ass begs to differ."

She laughed outright. "You're still an asshole."

"And I still kind of really want to kiss you."

"Dean…"

"That's why I need you to ride with us this weekend. So when I want to, I can."

"Seth's just not into you enough to lock lips, huh?"

"He might be. But I want you."

"I want you too," she admitted softly.

"What hotel you going to?"

Surprised by the rapid shift in topics, she faltered for a moment. She had to check the notation she'd made on her phone and when she had, told him.

"Come to my room when you get in."

Elizabeth sucked in a breath. "I—"

"I'll text you the number. And it'll be the middle of the night. No one'll see."

He was almost pleading. Almost. She doubted he ever had to actually beg a woman to come to his hotel room. Before she could think of the million reasons why she shouldn't, she agreed. Because she kind of really wanted to kiss him, too. And because she wanted him.

And, damnit, because she wanted more than anything to just feel his arms around her.

615. Next to stairs. Knock once.

Barefoot, dressed in her pajamas, Elizabeth took the stairs down to the next floor. She, John, and Melissa had checked in barely twenty minutes before. The suite had two bedrooms and a living area. Elizabeth had thrown a few things into her large purse and quickly left. She wouldn't be missed. She was sure of that. Just as she was sure she'd seen Melissa's triumphant smirk as the younger woman closed the door to the bedroom John had claimed.

Her knuckles thumped the door to room 615. She saw no sign of anyone else in the hallway, but she gave only a cursory glance while waiting. Not that she had very long to wait; it seemed her hand had just fallen to her side when the door opened. Expecting Dean, she entered the room, reaching for him.

The bare waist she grabbed hold of, though, wasn't his. A hand caught her by the shoulder as she began to move away, and Roman's laugh filled the room while the door closed.

"A bit anxious, huh?" he asked. He guided her to the bed farthest from the door. "He's taking a shower."

"Sorry," she groaned, slipping her purse from her shoulder and letting it drop to the floor. "I didn't know you were sharing with him—"

"No worries, baby girl. I'm about to crash. I won't be in y'all's way." Roman picked up a pair of headphones that was lying on the dresser

Elizabeth perched on the edge of the bed and half-watched the man get ready for bed. She almost asked him for hair care tips when he shook out his thick mane, but bit back the question. It was too late for such trivial conversation. Keeping her gaze on her lap, she finally reached into her purse for her phone, checking for messages before silencing it for the night. Pushing it onto the nightstand between the two double beds, she looked to the bathroom door when the muffled sound of the shower ended.

Dean came out just a minute or two later. Towel at his waist, hair still dripping, he smiled at the sight of her and reached back to turn off the bathroom light. "When did you get here?"

"Few minutes ago." She nudged her purse out of the way and stood. As was her habit, she reached to push down her pajama pants. But movement across the room stopped her. She barely knew the man. She couldn't very well strip in front of him, even if the room was practically dark.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, caught one of the hands hesitating at the waistband of her pajama pants, and tugged until she stood in front of him. "Hey," he murmured, pushing his lips to hers briefly. "What's—"

"Night," Roman called from the other bed. Elizabeth and Dean reciprocated, she glancing over to see he'd put on the headphones and was pulling the covers up over his head. A smile touched her lips at his consideration.

"C'mere."

His hands at her waist, nudging down the pajama pants. His lips on the side of her throat. His fingers alternately clutching and caressing. The pants slipped down to her ankles and she stepped out of them just before he pulled her onto the bed. His mouth against hers. His skin was damp and cool from his shower. All she could smell was the freshness of his soap and shampoo. All she could feel was him, at first beneath then over her. All she could taste was him. The bite of mint-flavored toothpaste with a faint undertone of cigarette.

"Dean," she whispered, holding onto his shoulders when he shifted over her. She felt the towel slide over her leg then it was gone completely. Sucking in a breath, she bit down on her bottom lip as he reached back to pull up the covers. He settled between her thighs, lips landing on her cheek.

"Relax. I just want to hold you."

Within moments, she was reminded of that first morning in the motel, when she'd awakened in his arms. This time he held her closer, though. His leg draped over hers, his chin resting at the curve of her neck, he sighed. Elizabeth reached blindly beneath the covers, the stress and anxieties of the night pushed to the back burner when she grasped his hand.

"Night, Lizzie," he mumbled.

"Night, Dean," she whispered.

He gave her hand a squeeze. And as she closed her eyes, exhaustion taking over, she was certain she felt him smile.