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“I’m sorry,” I said, but I wasn’t sure what exactly I was supposed to be sorry for. It was a reflex.
“It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I was a little too distracted to think about sunscreen,” she said. I was about to say something else, but she took her shirt off and presented me her back.
“How bad is it?” she asked, and I looked at the angry, red expanse of her back that ended abruptly where her suit had been.
“It’s not that bad, but it looks like it hurts. Hold on.” I stood on unsteady legs and went to the bathroom, coming back with a huge bottle of aloe lotion.
“This should help. I have no idea why I bought this, but I’m glad I did.”
Gently, I applied the aloe to her upper back.
“This, um, might be easier if you took off your bra. I don’t want to get goo all over it.” Said bra was black and simple, but oh, so sexy.
With one hand, she undid the clasp and slid the straps down her shoulders and freed her arms.
“That feels good,” she said as I smeared more lotion on her skin.
“You should have said something earlier.” I wouldn’t have kissed her if I’d known she was suffering.
“And go back home without having kissed you? No way. It was worth it.” She looked at me over her shoulder and it occurred to me that she was completely naked from the waist up.
No. I was helping her with a sunburn. The seduction was on momentary pause.
“Was it?” I asked, moving to her lower back. That part wasn’t burned because it had been covered by her suit, but she couldn’t see that. I’d take any excuse to keep touching her.
“Definitely. And I’m not going to let a little sunburn stop me from doing it again.” The bottle almost slipped out of my hands. To be fair, the lotion had made my hands slippery.
Esme stood up from the couch and turned to face me.
Oh shit. Oh shit.
“Come on,” she said, holding out her hand. As if we were in her house. But what was I going to do? I stood and followed her as she led me to my own bedroom.
“Leave the door open. If Potato can’t get in, he’ll scream outside the door,” I said. She left the door partially open.
“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” she said, leaning into me and speaking in my ear. Her nipples brushed against me and I stopped breathing.
“You… you have?” I asked. This was news to me.
“Yes. But you always seemed to be with someone else, and I thought I just wasn’t your type.” She fingered the strap of my bra.
“You’re my type.” She was so much my type.
“You’re my type too.”
The room was dark, but I wanted to see her, so I turned on the lamp next to the bed.
“You have a lot of pillows,” Esme said, staring at my carefully made bed.
“How many pillows do you have?”
“A lot less than this. Where do you even sleep?” She laughed a little and I tossed the pillows I didn’t normally use onto a chair.
“There. See?” I said.
Esme smiled at me. “Still seems excessive.”
“Did you bring me in here to talk about pillows, or…” I asked.
