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I’m very aware of how loud my peeing is. Why are bathrooms so loud? It sounds like a rushing waterfall, hell, maybe even chicken frying, in here with an echo. Please don’t pass gas. Please don’t let this man hear me toot.
“Why are you still in here? This is a private moment.” Instead of answering me, Cruz reaches for the toilet paper. I grab his wrist with my good hand. “Don’t you dare.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“You’ve said that. Several times, in fact. Believe me, I’m well aware of your profession.”
“My point is, I’ve seen and done all kinds of things concerning the body.” I bet he has. This is so embarrassing. My head drops forward and lands on Cruz’s lower abdomen. His hand gently pats my head.
I lean into his comforting touch, but as I tilt my head, I become very aware that my face is in his crotch. I place my hand on his thigh to push myself up, but instead of pushing him away, I pull him toward me. What am I doing?
If anyone walks in on us, he’s helping me pee. This is a completely normal position. He’s a doctor. I’m injured and in need of assistance. The bulge growing beneath his slacks indicates he is in need of some assistance.
To stick my hand up his shorts, or not to… Decisions.
My hand flexes against him as I slowly make my way down to the hem of his khaki shorts.
His voice sounds guttural. “I only came in here to help you.”
“What if I want to return the favor and help you.” I tease one finger underneath the fabric.
“What did you have mind?”
Taking his dick in my mouth and sucking it in until it touches the back of my throat and my eyes water. The thought sends a flood of heat through my body. I’m aching for him, and I know he feels the same. In this moment, I could see me sliding his zipper down and pulling his cock out. I’m at the perfect angle to take him deep in my mouth. I cut my eyes to the side and see our reflection in the mirror. Wow. I look fucking ridiculous sitting on the toilet with my nose pressed into Cruz’s cock.
“Step outside so I can clean myself up, please.”
“Release me, and I will.” His voice drops.
I drop my hand and then kick his shin. Trembling, I tell him, “There. Now go.”
His heated gaze narrows. It’s evident he doesn’t want to walk away, but he does. I manage to wipe myself and get my panties up. My leggings, however, Cruz is there to help me thankfully. He even helps me with washing my hands.
“Watch a movie with me,” Cruz says. “Only until Jan gets back.”
A snarky remark is on the tip of tongue, but I swallow it down and simply nod. I follow Cruz and I am surprised when he takes me to his room. He pats a place next to him on his bunk bed.
“This seems to be crossing a line.” I look around the room and spot a guitar. I walk over and pick it up. “This is a left-handed guitar.”
“You know guitars?”
I snort. “I know a little. Do you play?”
“Nah. It’s just a prop.”
“Dick.”
“I’m sorry. Yes, I wanted to be a musician before I went to med school.”
“You? Interesting. What else did Cruz—” A lightbulb goes off in my head. “Is that where the name Cruz comes from?”
“No, but it worked out great for that. My father always called me Cruz. He wasn’t a fan of the name Christopher, so he gave me his own version of the name.”
“Sounds like a total rocker name. So badass.”
We spend the rest of the evening strumming on the guitar and discussing our favorite musicians, instrument brands, and songs. Several times we caught each other staring at the other’s mouth. When Jan arrives, Cruz hugs me before I leave his room. His lips barely graze over mine in the ghost of a kiss.
Every part of my body protests me leaving. Thank goodness tomorrow is the last day. He’ll probably spend his time with Larissa and play the guitar for her. The thought alone makes me feel stabby. Cruz being a musician at heart further proves how he is not for me. That, of course, didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach and the second heartbeat between my legs.
