Page 57 of Sand in My Boots

“Did you have a good time?”

“I always have a good time with you, buttercup.” Still not settled on what I like, I keep trying out different ones. Soon I’m going to have to Google more because I’m running out of ones to try.

“No to the buttercup. Yes to the good times,” Juli murmurs. “My feet are aching. What are the odds you’re in the mood to give me a foot massage?”

“Equal to the chances of you blowing me before riding my dick.” Unfazed by the comment, her body doesn’t twitch.

“My foot massage should come first. Don’t you agree?”

No. Because then my chances of getting us off are probably nonexistent. Though what I say aloud is, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

She looks up at me, her hooded eyes struggling to focus. “You’ve used that one already. Need new material.”

I shrug. “Thought maybe I’d landed on a winner, but what you’re saying is it’s a no-go?”

We reach her building, walking toward the elevator. Once inside, she gazes at me, her eyes fluttering closed. For a few seconds, I wonder if they’ll open back up, but eventually they do. Slowly.

Releasing a deep breath, she finally claims, “I don’t know. I can’t decide in this state.” Interesting how she knew I’d used it before but can’t give her opinion on it. “Ask me again in the morning. I’ll have all my decision-making faculties back.”

“You can scrounge up the word faculties in your state, but not your stance on the pet name sweetheart?” I laugh, definitely at Juli’s expense.

Her pink-glossed lips frown. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m not the one who kept my cup filled all night long.”

“That certainly wasn’t me,” I defend. “Actually, I believe it was at your insistence I kept it full. At least I also kept you well hydrated with water and gorged with carbs.”

The mention of carbs turns her attitude. “That cake was fucking amazing. Does the chef work here? Because I’mma need another piece or three before I go home.” And the sour attitude returns.

Which I completely understand. It’s truly sinking in that her time here is abruptly coming to an end.

“We’ve got tonight and all day tomorrow. Don’t ruin the night with talk of something in the future.”

“Don’t lose my number this time, k?”

The elevator door opens wide. My mouth agape, she stumbles through, catching herself on the wall so she doesn’t fall. The door begins to close before my mind processes her comment and what’s happening, and I step through just in time.

Her suite is diagonally across from the elevator. “You’ve got the key, Came. Hurry. I think I have to pee.”

That springs me into action. Not so much for the reason it should.

“You think?”

“Only you would pick up on that part.” She rolls those brown orbs in my direction. “I have to pee. Better?”

“Much. I’d be a lot more worried about your faculties if you couldn’t discern when you had to pee.” I dig the key out of her clutch she also handed over on the walk back, holding it against the knob. She shoves it open as soon as it turns green, finding her way to the bathroom through the dimly lit suite.

Making sure the door is locked, her shoes fall to the ground as I toe out of mine. I grab two bottles of water from the fridge and follow her into the bedroom.

A few days ago, it took her exactly ten minutes to decide we’re at the stage of using the bathroom in front of each other. She may have been a bit drunk when she mentioned it, but it hasn’t stopped her from doing it since.

Let’s be honest. We’ve completely bared our bodies to each other. What’s a little bathroom usage between friends?

I’m laughing at my own joke when she exits the bathroom, hiking her dress over her head. “What’s so funny?”

“Never mind. Come hither.”

My words don’t distract from the task at hand—getting out of her dress. She discards it on the floor of the closet, remaining in her lacy lingerie. The black strapless bra pushes her breasts together, creating an immense amount of cleavage. My cock takes notice, wanting to slide in between them. The thong is barely a strip of fabric. Her toned yoga body does little to ease the pain of my hard erection.

I lounge against the headboard in the unmade bed, though the sheets are clean. Juli insisted on a nap before the wedding, which ended up being entirely that—a nap. At least for her. I watched her sleep, not thinking about how close we are to this being over.