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I try to rise to my tiptoes, but I slip on the slick floor.
There.
My feet find the towel. Still, it’s too slippery. I can’t move. I can’t get closer. Or break our embrace.
I want both. And neither. I want to tell him I love him. And I want to run a million miles away from anything that might hurt.
How can I let myself fall harder?
How can I stop myself?
It’s Ryan.
He’s everything.
The elevator dings. He shifts his hips, releasing me. He bends to scoop my towel and drapes it over his arm.
He steps into the hallway. Turns to me with a smug smile as he unwraps his towel and drapes it over mine.
He’s just as beautiful with soft orange wall paper and fluorescent light surrounding him.
His wet hair sticks to his forehead.
A bead of water drips off his chin. It traces a line down his chest and stomach. Beneath his belly button. Past that soft tuft of hair. All the way to the waistband of his swimsuit.
I swallow hard.
He takes my hand. Leads me to our hotel room. It’s only a few dozen feet, but it feels like a million miles. I need him. I need the world disappearing again. I need to lose myself in my lust.
He stops at the door.
Oh. I have the key.
I slide it into the lock. Watch it flash green. Turn the handle.
I step inside.
He follows.
The door slams shut.
Sunlight streams through the sheer curtains.
We’re alone again. And I feel it. I feel that the world is ours.
I move into the room. Into the wide-open space between the couch and the balcony.
Ryan places his body behind mine, his chest against my back, his crotch against my ass.
His breath warms my ear. “You like being on display, baby?”
“Yes.”
His voice drops to something low and demanding. “Pull the curtains.”
My sex clenches. My feet sink into the carpet as I move to the sliding door. There. I grab the plastic rod and pull it all the way to the right.
The room gets brighter.
