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“I’m late,” she whispers then, cutting through the silence. “And judging by the way your phone’s buzzing, I’d say you’re late as well.”
“Yeah,” I simply respond, sitting up on the bed and reaching for my phone. It’s Maverick alright, and he’s already left me three text messages wondering where the
hell I am. I’m never late, so he’s already stressing. Calm your horses, the cavalry is on the way, I type quickly, and then swing my legs off the bed.
I take one last look at Destiny, her perfect naked body almost glowing with delight, and then get up with a sigh. It hurts to leave when I know we could still keep going at it, but it can’t be helped. I have responsibilities, you know?
The sex was so fucking great.
So why does this feel so awkward?
Hundreds of women are depending on me for entertainment and perhaps something more. “I’m going for a quick shower, you can--”
“Yeah, I have to shower as well,” she suddenly says, getting out of the bed completely naked. I look at her wide-eyed, not knowing what to tell her.
Well, fuck now it’s really awkward.
I could just tell her to join me but I’m not in the habit of post-sex niceties, to be honest, so I have to say I’m feeling a bit uneasy about that. So, instead of inviting her to join me, I just say that I’ll show her the bathroom.
I take her to the private bathroom in my bedroom, and a few minutes later we’re both standing under the warm running water, washing away our sins.
Yeah, not the same bathroom.
Don’t get your hopes up. She’s in my private bathroom, and I’m in the main one.
Fuck, I could be with her right now. But what would she think of that? I don’t want to come on to her too hard, which is kinda fucking ironic, if you take into account the way we fucked last night.
And what the fuck is wrong with me?
I never overthink these things.
For a fraction of a second, I imagine being under the running water with her, just showering like two regular people, and I even picture myself helping her fucking shampoo her hair. I must be running a fever, that has to be it.
To be absolutely honest with you, doll, I don’t think I ever remember the last time I ever wanted to be this close to a woman. And when I say close, I’m not talking about being physically close. It’s more than that.
Alright, let me fucking stop right here or next thing you know I’m writing poetry.
And you’ll just fucking snort, wondering what happened to make an alpha male bad boy into a mewling kitten.
Fuck that.
I’m over her.
I push all these rosy fucking thoughts out of my head and finish showering. Like a fucking man.
I put on a black suit and, by the time I’m finished getting ready, Destiny gets out of the bathroom looking completely stunning, even though she’s wearing her clothes from when I met her at 230 Fifth this afternoon.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I see her, and she raises one eyebrow at me.
“What?” she asks, and I don’t know what to tell her. I settle for the truth.
“You look amazing,” I say, and she arches her eyebrows even more.
“I’m not wearing any make-up, my hair is shit, and I’m wearing a creased dress,” she purses her lips, probably thinking that I’m messing with her, but I just grin.
“And you look fucking stunning,” I admit, no longer caring about what she thinks. “I guess that there’s actually a pretty woman under all that make-up.”
“Asshole,” she laughs, and then closes the distance between the two of us and punches me playfully in the arms.
