One more thrust, perfectly aimed, and I was gone. Coming untouched, striping the dresser while my whole body shook. He fucked me through it, drawing out the sensation until I was oversensitive and trembling.
Then his rhythm faltered. His grip on my hips tightened. With a groan against my shoulder, he came deep inside me, his whole body shuddering against my back.
We stayed like that, catching our breath, letting our heart rates slow. Eventually he pulled out carefully, turning me around to face him.
“Hey,” he asked, thumb stroking my cheek.
“Hi.”
In the shower afterward, he washed my hair with careful fingers, kissing my temple when soap ran into my eyes. We traded lazy touches under the spray, relearning each other's bodies without the urgency from before.
Back in bed, still damp and smelling like hotel soap, we tangled together. His fingers traced meaningless patterns on my back while I pressed kisses to his shoulder.
“Your grandma’s getting the biggest fruit basket,” he said.
Laughter bubbled up from my chest. “She’ll frame the thank you card.”
Outside, the ocean rolled on. Tomorrow we’d dock at another island, do more touristy things, pretend we weren’t counting the minutes until we could be alone again.
Five years of pining, and it had only taken one dramatic coffee shop confrontation, a snowstorm, and my grandmother’s meddling to get us here.
Worth it.
Completely, absolutely worth it.
THE END
Last Impressions
“I’m telling you, Jamie,” I said as I sipped my iced caramel macchiato, “the man is a complete liar. A gorgeous, infuriating, smooth-talking liar.”
Jamie bounced in his seat across from me, his lime-green bomber jacket catching the afternoon sun like a beacon. The guy looked like a highlighter had exploded on him—green jacket, yellow shirt, and I was pretty sure those were neon orange shoelaces in his white sneakers.
“But like, maybe he had a reason?” Jamie's eyes were wide with that manic energy he always had after his third espresso. “I mean, when Dylan didn’t tell me he was lactose intolerant for three whole weeks, I forgave him. Same thing, right?”
I set my drink down on the wrought-iron table and stared at him. “How is that even remotely the same thing?”
“It’s about milk, Angel. Once you spill it, nearly impossible to get it back.” Jamie gestured wildly with his frappe, nearly sloshing whipped cream onto his jacket. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re single.”
“I’m single because my last boyfriend decided mid-panic-attack that he was suddenly straight.” I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair, letting the spring breeze ruffle my carefully styled hair. “Thirty-eight years old, wakes up one morning, and boom, 'I think I like women now, Angel. You know how things go. It’s been fun, but I have to start my new life.'“
I could still see the deadpan expression on Rodney’s face. The guy actually thought that, after being gay his entire life, that he was now into woman. Who did shit like that?
Jamie’s jaw hit the table. “He what? How do you even do that? Is it like going from chocolate to strawberry, or from blond to brunet? I tried that once. My hair looked a wreck and my stomach ached for a whole week.”
“Apparently, you can get away with being a complete dick if you say you’re having a mid-life crisis.” I took another long sip, the sweetness doing nothing to take away the bitter taste of that memory. “So forgive me if I’m a little touchy about men who don’t know their own identity.”
“Okay, but—”
“And then,” I continued, because I was on a roll now, “I met this guy at work. New salon manager, right? Tall, gorgeous, shoulders that go on for days. Introduces himself as Mitch, says he’s excited to work with our team. Totally unsuspicious manager behavior.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming, and not the fun kind you squeeze.” Jamie leaned forward with that gleeful gossip energy, sipping on his straw like there was no tomorrow.
“But then Kendra, you know Kendra, the one with the blue streaks, she lets it slip that ‘store manager isn’t exactly accurate.” I made air quotes with my fingers. “Mitch doesn't manage one Shear Class location. He owns the entire damn chain. Every. Single. Salon.”
Yet another guy who’d lied to me. Mitch. Tall, gorgeous, shoulders that went on for days. He’s just conveniently forgot to mention he was some rich asshole pretending to be a decent human being. An asshole I’d started falling for.
That’s what hurt the most. Maybe I would go straight so I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone’s bullshit. An island unto myself.
