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I don’t believe it’s anything else.
She feels it, and so do I. The problem is that I’ve fought the desire to act upon said attraction, and right now, sitting here on the floor, I just don’t fucking care to fight it anymore.
I want to kiss her.
I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her close.
I want to thread my fingers into that long, blonde hair and devour her mouth with my own.
I want to feel the way she writhes against me and hear the sounds of surrender spill from her lips.
I want more.
I want it all.
Reaching forward, I remove the strand of hair that is stuck to her lips. As soon as I do, her tongue snakes out, wetting the very lips I’ve been dreaming about. My eyes drop down, watching with fascination, as she holds her breath, waiting. I could lean in. I could steal the kiss I’ve been fantasizing about. By the look in her eyes, she’d be completely on board with this plan, but I know it wouldn’t be enough.
It may never be enough.
I want more.
“I have an idea,” I say softly, my finger trailing a blazing path up her soft cheek as I tuck the hair behind her ear.
She doesn’t say a word or even a sound.
“Come with me this weekend on my boat.”
Marissa blinks at me, seeming to register what I said. “I get seasick.” Her words are small and wounded, as if she’s sad I didn’t remember that tidbit of information. But the thing is: I’ve not forgotten. I haven’t forgotten one tiny detail when it comes to this woman.
“I remember,” I say, keeping my hand on her hair. “I have Dramamine for you, and my friends are coming down this weekend. I think you’ll like Nick and Meghan, your cousin. Plus, you could use a break. It’s a holiday weekend, and I’d hate to see you working your tail off in the house while you could be out relaxing, soaking up the sun, and spending time with friends.”
She seems to be considering my offer, and I know her answer could go either way. The possibility of her turning me down sits like a lead brick in my gut. The prospect of spending time with Marissa on my boat, in my element, has me all sorts of giddy.
And I don’t fucking do giddy.
“If you start to feel lousy at any point, I’ll turn around and bring you home. No questions asked.”
The worry lines around her eyes disappear as she relaxes, and I know what her answer is going to be. She’s about to say yes, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, I’m fucking ecstatic, my wheels already spinning with where we can go and what all we can do. I’m determined to make this trip a good one for her in hopes that she won’t be afraid to go again in the very near future.
“I’ll go…under one condition,” she says, her lips turning upward into a small smile.
“Anything.” I glance down and realize I’m holding her hand. At some point, when I was transfixed on her gaze, I had dropped my hands and reached for hers. I’m not sure if she realizes it yet I’m holding her hand, but if she does, she hasn’t pulled away. I like it.
“I get to cook for you.”
Again, my stomach growls loudly, followed by a burst of laughter from Marissa. “Deal.”
* * *
My phone is ringing as I step out of the en suite shower. Holding the towel around my waist, I make a dive for the device before the caller can hang up. I smile when I see my best friend’s name on the screen.
“Hey, man.”
“How’s it going?” he responds.
“Good. Just got home from work a bit ago. Getting ready to head downstairs for dinner,” I tell him, tucking the end of the towel against my lower stomach to keep it in place.
“I was hoping I’d catch you before you went out for the evening,” he says casually, though the implication is there. For too many years, my friend has watched me go out, have a few drinks, and take home whatever girl has caught my attention for the night.
