But he doesn’t stop leaving me. Us.
I dig my heels into the wet sand and scream, “A fucking mistake! Just stop, okay? Just fucking stop! Come back to me.”
But I’ve lost sight of him.
I have no idea that he will be out of my life for years.
Chapter 6
After I wake, my heart is pounding at what was surely a wild but mind-blowingly fun mistake. I feel stupid for not going back to my room.
Last night was just some hot sex. A way to blow off some steam with a gorgeous guy.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
As I’m intending to sneak out, he locks his arm around me when I start to roll off the bed, pulling me back in and stroking his hand up and down my arm until I calm. Until I want to stay and never leave. And he’s got me secured with him again.
“Don’t leave,” he says. “Please don’t leave.”
When his tongue touches my neck, I begin to melt. Then he moves down my body until his mouth is between my legs. He is eager and clear about his intent to satisfy me.
Having someone want to please me this much is not something I’m used to. This kind of hunger directed at me? It takes a bit for me to give in and accept it. Enjoy it. I’ve always been about focusing on someone else because it’s typically felt like an annoyance for a guy to care about what I might like.
Not with New Friend Dave. He’s patient, and he waits for me to relax into it. Intohim. Against his mouth. Which I finally do.
Maybe it’s easier to let myself go now because I have ingrained in my head how this is a vacation thing. Because ithasto be.
This is ecstasy that I didn’t know could happen.
Well, until last night.
I relax my thighs and let myself succumb to his clear desire to drive me over the edge. The heat of his mouth, his lips, and his tongue? I’m soon dizzy. Sweating. And nearly crying while he builds me up so expertly. Every second is a minute. And every minute sends me crashing even more into oblivion.
After my hands are in his hair and while I’m still panting and trying to recover from what he’s done to me, there’s a knock at the door, and I swear all the swears I know.
“No need for cursing. Room service.” Dave crawls up and smiles before he bounces out of bed with a wink. “Gotta’ get that.”
This boy has obviously started following my socials because in wheels two kinds of Benedict, a full plate of Irish smoked salmon, bagels, sour cream, capers, and such. Oh, and coffee, of course.
He knows what I like.
In more ways than one.
“Marcia Gay Harden,” he says as he rolls the tray my way.
“John Stamos,” I blurt back. “And, God, I love a good breakfast.”
Lordy, this man even got my coffee right. My absolute favorite is one with condensed milk and a foamy top.
We both inhale food and agree to meet up in a bit.
Later, I change into a new bathing suit and head back outside again because I am incapable of resisting him. Dave is again on a lounge chair, with one reserved next to him, this time with an umbrella, clearly for me and my fair skin. And he doesn’t appear to be doing anything inappropriate this time, so that’s good.
“Jeremy Irons,” he says smugly as I sit.
He thinks he can win thisSVU-cast game, but I’m gonna kill it.
“Mike Tyson.” I plop down and throw on sunglasses. “And would you mind getting us some guacamole?”
