It’s a feat of editing I’m pretty fricking proud of, I’ve gotta say.
Because, even if Harry did break my heart, I’ve never been the airing-dirty-laundry type. Plus, I wouldn’t harm my blog like that. I think I just let my anger get the better of me for a second there … okay, almost an hour, but still!
I grab the edge of the desk and wheel back in the office chair, oh-so-thankful when it doesn’t creak and whine like my one at home.
I stand up and go into the bathroom, peeling off my PJs, all sweaty now from my writing flurry, and hop into the shower. I turn on the precious water pressure and let the warm spray slide down my body.
I try not to imagine – orImagine, like our game – his hands grazing down me instead.
I get out of the shower as quickly as I can, since that whole not-thinking-Harry thing was a complete failure.
It’s all too easy to imagine his assertive hands stroking down my belly, over my pubis and then down, down …
I shake my head, which causes droplets of water to spatter against the mirror. I glance at my reflection and almost talk, but then, nuh-uh, I promised myself I’d draw the line at photos of dogs.
I walk into the bedroom and pull on my gym gear, aware from the clapping footsteps that other camp-goers are already running the track. The sun isn’t slanting sideways into my room anymore … not that I needthatto tell me I’m majorly late. The red readout on my digital clock tells me it’s half past ten.
I’m about to sneak outside when there’s a heavy knock on my door, the wooden material shaking in the doorframe. Tying my hair up in a ponytail, I walk in my unlaced sneakers to answer it.
When I pull it open, I see that Harry is standing there. Wearing a baggy green Harry Hadley Fitness hoodie, but with his muscular legs bare in the shorts, he cocks his head at me and allows a smirk to expand his chiseled jaw.
“Hey, lazy,” he banters, stalking slowly into the room.
My heartbeat immediately starts to bang in my chest. His fingers are twitching and I just know what he’s thinking, what pleasure he wants to dish out with his touch.
“Lazy?” I snap with a smile. I can’t get too feisty with him, after all, not if my plan is going to be a success. “I’ve been writing up a storm this morning, I’ll have you know.”
“Oh, I saw.” He grins ferociously.
In the cave, he had the aura of some sort of emancipated beast, like for years he’s been holding himself back, and now he can finally let loose. I don’t know if I’m reading too much into it.
But as he trails me like a hunter all the way to my bed, I doubt it.
“I respect your work ethic. But goddamn, sweetheart, it’s almost eleven.”
I dart forward, slapping him in his carved abdomen. I feel the solid press of his muscles against my palm.
I swear to fricking God, if I stabbed him with a shard of ice it’d shatter into pieces without leaving a dent on his sculpture-like body.
“Easy, playboy,” I giggle. “I’m here to enhance my blog, remember? Not banter with the CEO. And since when did truants get the special attention of Harry Hadley himself?”
Our doors in the dormitory are the fire-safety kind, loaded on springs, so that the second he walked in here it swung shut.
Now it’s just the two of us.
I feel my bed against my thighs. It’d be so easy for him to grab my shoulders and shove me back …
And then we’d fall and our rapacious hands would be all over each other. I glance down and see that his manhood is solid as a comet … until it burns up, which I’ve got no doubt he wants to happen.
So do I.
Maybe.
But things are moving so fast.
The kiss was a spur-of-the-moment kind of deal.
And whereas I might indulge in a kiss without really thinking about it, I’m not just going to fuck him on a whim.
