She smiles. “You’re always prepared. What’s the plan? Gluing them to our asses?”
“If that’s your kink, I’m here to support you.”
“Is Hunter kinky?” she asks. “I get that vibe from him.”
My stomach roils, and I’m sure I’m beet red. “You get the kinky vibe from him? What does that mean?” My mind slides to Hunter in bed next to me last night. The way his T-shirt hugged his body like it was a size too small. The wisps of hair peeking out from the neck. I wonder how his skin would feel against mine.
Hot. Hard. Rough.
“You know,” she says. “I can imagine he’s quite the domineering type in bed.”
I laugh. “Have you been imagining it?”
“Stop!” she says. “No, but I wasn’t a virgin when I met Ed. I’ve had other lovers.”
“Lovers?” I ask. “You mean boyfriends?”
“Boyfriends who I slept with.” Katherine had precisely two “lovers” before Ed, and one was a one-night stand.
“And the ones like Hunter were kinky?” I ask.
“I’m not saying I slept with anyone like Hunter. It’s just ... is he?”
I laugh again. “I don’t know. We haven’t slept together yet.” I don’t know why I say it—it just slips out. Maybe the line between what’s real and what’s fake has faded and I’m just speaking the truth.
Wehaven’tslept together.
Yet.
Yet.
Yet.
The word echoes in my head.
“Really?” Katherine shrieks. “Why the hell not?”
He could have made a move last night. We were both lying next to each other without many clothes on. But he didn’t even try. Maybe he doesn’t like me. Except, I think he does. At least he likes me sometimes.
I shrug. “No particular reason.”
“Well, it’s not because of the lack of chemistry,” she says. “Because we all saw there was plenty of that around the fire last night. I’m surprised the two of you didn’t combust.”
I bite back a smile. Yeah, I’d felt some of that chemistry. But he didn’t make a move.
“And you’re sharing a bed. Maybe tonight ... Do you have condoms?”
I groan. “Katherine, please don’t tell Ed about any of this. I know Hunter wouldn’t want us all talking about ...”
“About why the two of you aren’t having sex already?”
“We’re taking it slow. He’s being respectful!” I say, half laughing, half serious.
She shakes her head. “He better get less respectful tonight.”
Footsteps on the stairs interrupt our conversation, and I put my finger on my lips. I really don’t want my sex life—or lack of one—being the topic of conversation over the fruit salad.
After breakfast, we all shower and head to the beach. Our stretch of sand isn’t private, but there aren’t many people around—just the odd person walking their dog or running. The breeze keeps it from being too hot, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky.
