How I’m going to listen with her tits practically floating in my face, I don’t know. But I’ll try.
“Distraction is the last thing I need right now. I know you believe we’ve been put on this island for a second chance or whatever, but to me, it’s nothing but a massive coincidence, all right?”Her words are resolute, but the furrow between her brows contradicts the declaration.
I nod, placating her for now.
“Clearly, we have major chemistry, and I’m on vacation, so…” She sucks in air. “So, I think we should have sex.”
Damn. Normally women are not so forthcoming, but I can’t say I mind it. And neither does my dick.
“I’m here for five more days.” She shrugs. “If you’re down, I think we could have a lot of fun. But,” she adds, “we leave it all on the island.”
I choke on my saliva. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. What happens here stays here. We’re not bringing whatever this is,” she waggles a finger between us, “back to New York. I don’t want any strings. Are you in or not?”
Am I in? God, I want to be all the way in with this woman. But not just physically. She’s already in my soul. It’s wild, I know, and I can’t explain it. I want all the strings, but for now, I’ll take anything she’s willing to give me.
“Okay.” I keep my voice neutral, calm. “If we’re going to do this, is there anything else I should know?” I ask.
She licks her lips and surveys the horizon for a moment. When she looks at me again, her dark eyes are molten. “Yeah.” She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “I have a major praise kink. And I like to be thrown around, but I also like to be in charge. That cool with you?”
Fuck. Her words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Without waiting for my response, she turns and heads for the shore. When her body comes into view, her dark hair is plastered to her back and her bare hips sway.
Is this my dream woman?
Well, shit. There’s no way I can get out of the water now.
21
Josefine
Cam doesn’t followme out right away, but he keeps his attention fixed on me while I dry off in our private little alcove. If the way he’s blinking so rapidly is any indication, then the wheels in his head are spinning as fast as mine.
Did I really just proposition him for sex? I feel like Natalie Portman inFriends With Benefits. Or is that with Mila Kunis? Who’s the one inNo Strings Attached? I always get the two movies mixed up. Anyway. Not only did I proposition him for sex, but I dispensed my top kinks like bubblegum from a machine.
For a heartbeat or two as I made my way back to the beach, I thought my pounding heart might beat right out of my chest, but I shook off the sensation. I refuse to cower.
Women should feel empowered in the bedroom, not ashamed. And life’s too short to have terrible sex. While there is nothing wrong with the vanilla variety, I’m more of a rocky road with rainbow sprinkles kind of gal.
I didn’t intend to embrace my brazen side in the middle of the Mediterranean, but I can’t resist our chemistry. Call EMS,because I nearly died whilst floating nude next to the man. And a man he is. The way the muscles of his legs flexed as he sauntered into the ocean should be illegal. And those dips in the sides of his glutes? I’d lap milk out of them like a kitten if he’d let me.
After we walked in on Millie and Ezra this morning, she and I had a little heart-to-heart. My cousin, who’s normally an open book, kept the door closed on the scene that unfolded last night.
But if there’s one thing Millie is good at, it’s helping me see through my bullshit. She pointed out that this thing between Cam and me doesn’t need to be a big deal. Therefore, I’ll embrace the joke the universe is playing on me, put on my casual overalls (metaphorically speaking), and get some good dick out of it. But I refuse to fall in love like Natalie or Mila. In the end, he will not be my Ashton or my Justin.
This is strictly physical. No feelings involved.
Easy.
Following my breakup last year, I swore off relationships. In retrospect, I can see how I was following a pattern my mother had modeled for years. When I needed a place to live, I let Tyler dangle shiny things in my face. (And I’m not talking about his Prince Albert.) Offering a desperate eighteen-year-old an apartment steps away from the Pacific Ocean? That was a major red flag, though I wasn’t old enough or wise enough to see it then. From where I’m standing now, I’m not even sure he loved me. Maybe he liked the companionship, the sex, the convenience, but he never valued me the way I deserved.
I’m long overdue for a therapy session. This I know to be true. But I refuse to be like my mother and permanently rely on a man.
Aside from ending a toxic relationship, moving to New York City has been the wisest decision I’ve ever made. But dang, has it been an arduous adjustment. Thank fuck for my cousin. While Millie has declined my numerous offers to pay rent, she did agree to let me take care of groceries and cooking. Shout out to cookingtutorials on social media, or else our diet would consist of smoothies, grilled cheese, and Hot Pockets.
For a split second, I’m hit with an image of cooking for Cam and the kind of reactions I could elicit from him. But I quickly suppress that picture. Nope. Stuff that image right down the garbage disposal I wish our NYC apartment had. I shall not be cooking for any man anytime soon,thank you very much.
