I roll to face him. He’s staring up at the ceiling with his brows pulled together.
My fingers grip his chin and turn him toward me. “I was tipsy, not drunk. I’m just in my thirties. Looking at alcohol gives me a hangover. You have nothing to feel guilty about, I promise.”
His Adam’s apple bobs and I fight the urge to lick up his throat.
“And don’t think I forgot your promise. I’m fully sober now.”
His pupils dilate, the green slipping away like a shadow taking over a forest. There’s danger there, and my veins are injected with another hit of desire.
“You still want that?” he asks, his eyes boring into me.
“Absolutely,” I say. “Don’t you?”
His jaw tightens, and I worry for a second that he’s going to say no, that it’s too much of a risk for our friendship, and he’ll leave me here burning.
“And you’re happy with this just being physical?” he asks.
Physical is good. Hot. I don’t want to ruin our friendship with romantic feelings, and Colton already made it clear that he isn’t willing to factor anyone else into his plans. We’re on the same page.
“Don’t worry, Colton, I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend or anything,” I say, and his body sags in relief. My heart pinches, which doesn’t make sense. Why should I care that he doesn’twant to be my boyfriend when I don’t want to be his girlfriend? I wiggle my eyebrows to cover up the little sting of rejection. “I read somewhere that orgasms cure headaches.”
He chuckles, and I marvel at how my body can have simultaneous yet opposite reactions. Goosebumps fly over my skin while my head jackhammers.
“While I’d love to fuck the headache out of you, the aspirin on the bedside table may be more effective.”
He stands and heads for the bathroom, and panic floods me. He’s walking away, giving my brain space it definitely doesn’t need. Space that will fill with the questions and worries that had been pushed out by pure need.
I take a deep breath. I’ve done friends with benefits plenty of times. Why would anyone pass up good sex with someone they can trust completely with their body? The complications come when you mix feelings with orgasms, and that’s a line we both agreed not to cross.
This doesn’t have to be complicated. I want him.Hewantsme.Sex has never been a big deal to me. It’s a way to feel good. Is it better with someone I care about? Of course. But so is everything else. Talking and cleaning the house and going to the grocery store. I’ve always been able to separate the feeling from the act, even when hooking up with a friend.
I grab the pills and toss them back. “What about your promise?”
“One time. That’s what you want, right?”
There’s a challenge in his eyes, and I feel like I’m being tested on a subject I’ve never studied.
“Yeah, don’t you?” I ask.
He rolls his lips together. “Of course. Let’s save it for when you’re feeling better.”
“But I want it now.” I sound like the brat from Willy Wonka, imagining myself trashing the factory because I didn’t get my golden goose.
He walks back to my side of the bed, taking my head between his hands and pulling me in for a deep kiss, completely unconcerned with my morning breath.
Pulling back so our lips are a hairsbreadth apart, he whispers, “I have too many dirty things I plan to say in your ear to have you wincing every time I talk. Patience, Chaos.”
He gives me one lingering kiss and heads to the bathroom without another glance.
Meanwhile, I’m a puddle.
Colton nudgesme towards the entrance of the thermal park. The stunning resort is designed around the natural healing properties of the volcanic island’s water. Properties that my still-pounding head seriously need.
The manicured pools and waterfalls are set into the cliffside, creating the illusion of cascading waters. It’s exactly what I need right now. To sit in the pools, close my eyes, and let everything go but the feel of the water on my skin. I rub at my temples again.
“The pools will help,” Colton says from behind me. I can hear the smile in his voice, and I want to elbow him in the stomach. Then, his hands land on my shoulders and expertly press into the knots on either side of my neck, and all’s forgiven.
“I’m not going in the freezing ones,” I say. “You can’t make me.”
