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It seems thinking about chunk-filled liquid is having the right effect; my cock is beginning to stand at ease.
I acknowledge the gentlemanly thing would be to give Ophelia privacy to finish changing—well, at least knock and announce my arrival before receiving an invitation to enter—but I am on the clock with this woman, and time isn’t slowing down for anyone. I have a short window to make a lasting impression. And a lasting impression I shall endeavor to achieve.
Having spent a few hours sitting next to her on my balcony, our body language during this time is a good indication we are on the same page with reciprocating an undeniable attraction toward each other.
I am on a time limit, so I am about to step it up because ten weeks in Alaska is too long away from Ophelia without leaving an unforgettable mark on her. I can’t be dillydallying about with my intentions for this woman. I need to know if she will allow me to get to know her better in the future after I arrive back home.
Zipping up the baggy hoodie to my navel, ensuring I have cock-camouflage in place, I slip the water bottle into my right hoodie front pocket, then I press on the door. It silently opens the rest of the way, and I enter, walking up to her.
“What are you waiting for?” I lean over her shoulder, murmuring in her ear. To her credit, Ophelia doesn’t turn around and slog me one for surprising her half-dressed.
“How long have you been standing there?” She stares straight ahead, finding my gray headboard interesting, sounding like she’s in better shape than she was an hour ago.
I’m honest. “Long enough to give me happy dreams while I am in Alaska, Hamlet.” Then she does turn and shoves me in the chest.
Eh… I had it coming.
I Dwayne Johnson her.
“I know this is your bedroom,Royal,but have you forgotten how to knock?” She’s got a cute ripple forming above her nose from frowning. Her sangria buzz has left the building, allowing her to think more clearly, and resurrect the wall that I managed to put a few cracks in over brunch.
I sigh. Challenge accepted.
“I see what you did there, Spitfire.”Touché.“I’m impressed you have taken this long holding out on giving me a nickname. Not that yours isthatcreative. I mean, we both know I won that area, hands down. But way to go with your attempt. Call me a cocky bastard, and I’ll be the first to second it. And nope, I didn’t forget to knock.”
“Honestly… you are impossible,” she grumps, which is far too adorable. I know she likes me. I just have to get her to admit it.
The time has come to bait her and see where it leads.
“Nah, I just know what I want and am willing to banter for it, even if it takes me 365 days to win you over. I am a patient man because we have a connection. You know it as much as I do.” I am exposing my hand to her. “Am I wrong?” Challenge set. “If you ask me to stop trying to crack that shell of yours, I will. If you tell me you feel nothing between us, I will turn around and walk out of this room. And although we will still be friends, we may never spend time together again after tomorrow.”
She blinks, and her mouth drops open. I think I have stunned her with my honesty.
“You’ve kept the T-shirt on I gave you,” she blurts out as a way to avoid answering me.
“Keen observation, Hamlet.” I reach out, gathering some of the loose strands of her wild mane between my fingertips. “I like your hair down, all wild and free and sexy. I bet you get great bed hair in the morning,” I murmur, almost as an afterthought, releasing her hair and tucking it behind her ear. I, too, can whiplash the conversation.
“You changed into workout shorts, but not the shirt. Why?” Her determination to avoid taking the bait is admirable.
I am on a mission, so I push on, knowing we will circle back. “The real reason I have kept it on is a no-brainer: you gave it to me. I like that you did that, but I haven’t given you a gift to reciprocate”—I waggle my eyebrows at Ophelia—“but I am sure I can find something to gift you while we are standing around shooting the breeze. Maybe I can gift you a kiss?”Wait for it…
Hands land on her hips. “Royal, I practically forced you to wear it.”
Okaay,so we are just gonna ignore my kiss comment. I can work with that. Onwards and upwards.
“Shakespeare, it was definitely given to me as a gift from how I recall it.” Cocky is my middle name.
“Try again,” she deadpans.
“Well then—” I pretend to think for a few seconds on my response. I may as well make my comment totally unexpected. “—how ‘bout… I am about to get all hot and sweaty, so I want to be wearing something of yours.”
Screwing her face up, she folds her arms under her breasts, fighting a smile, but losing. “You didnotjust say that.”
Christ, she is gorgeous.
“Who has their mind in the gutter? I’m about to do a workout. Gotta work on my glutes.” I prove my point with two squats. “Your bubble butt puts mine to shame.”
She scoffs loudly.
