Colt gestures for the bartender to come closer, asking for a shot glass. Once I down the penalty shot of Royal Dragon vodka and finish coughing, the game continues.
It’s not easy focusing on what everyone’s saying while Colt’s brushing his thumb under my ankle, holding my feet flush to the heat of his toned stomach, but I try my best.
“Your turn, Addie,” Grant instructs.
I have a question at the ready, one I think I already know Colt’s answer to but wouldn’t mind having it confirmed. “Would you rather dominate or be dominated?”
His fingers tighten their hold, and a small smile plays across his lips like he knows the question is for him. He doesn’t bother answering until I say I’d rather be dominated.
“I much prefer to dominate,” he admits. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
I try to wriggle my feet free again, heart racing, but Colt’s grip stays firm.
“Are you uncomfortable?” he asks.
I shake my headno, even though I’m so wet between my thighs I am uncomfortable.
“Then stop squirming, baby.”
The game goes on, the questions growing bolder and bolder to the point where I regret turning down truth or dare. Once Ben asks about pegging, I call it a night.
EIGHTEEN
Colt
TUG OF WAR. That was today’s game. Addie was up and out of the suite before my alarm rang at eight. I found her sitting with a cup of coffee, staring out at the island on the bow of the yacht.
She’s been on edge all day, her girlfriend role not on point in the slightest. Every time I touched her, she seemed taken aback, eyes wide, body language reserved like she couldn’t comprehendwhyI would willingly invade her personal space.
I’ve not stopped mentally kicking myself all day for the way I handled things last night.
I don’t regret not kissing her.
Well, that’s a big fat lie, though still kind of true. I wanted to kiss her. I’ve barely thought about anything else since we met, but given how much I want it, kissing her while we’re here, acting, with rules to obey, is abadidea. I know me. I’d lose my cool and take more than she wants to give.
No sex.That’s what she said.
If I want a chance with this girl back in Newport, I have to play my cards right.
So yeah, I regret it and don’t at the same time. I should’ve told herwhyI won’t do it, though. Maybe she’d still be all smiles and good mood if I had.
I can fix this with a simple conversation. I just have to tell her that I don’t want to rush. Not with her. She’s too important to me.
We met five days ago, but we’ve spent so much time together I feel like I’ve known her for months. This isn’t a casual fling. No, this has a chance of being something big.
I won’t fuck it up because I’m impatient.
Dates usually last about... what? Two to three hours? Tops. Multiply that by three dates a week, and you’d need a year to match the hundred hours plus I’ve had with Addie so far.
I doubt I’d learn half as much over a couple of dinners as I have in the past five days. I know how she takes her coffee in the morning. How she frowns when she’s annoyed, and how to tell her fake smiles from the real thing. I know she’s not a morning person. I know she’s allergic to some nuts, but not all of them. I know all the first-date things, all the things I’d learn during months of dates, and so much more.
I know what she feels like pressed against me when she sleeps. What her hair smells like. How soft she is. How warm.
And I’m growing attached at an alarming rate.
I had a long-term friends-with-benefits deal with a girl from college—Anastasia: two months here, three months there. It went on for almost two years but you could hold me at fucking gunpoint, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you what color her eyes were. I don’t even know her surname.
Running my fingers through my wet hair, I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
