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“Characters. We’ll be lucky if those drug dealers lurking outside don’t break in and murder us in our sleep.”
“Exactly why you can’t have your own room.”
“Why I can’t have my own room is because you like being difficult.”
“True.” He cocked his head and gave her his calculated biker’s sneer. “Plus, this way, I might see you naked.”
“Good luck with that.” She grabbed the pajama shorts and T-shirt she’d bought when they were at Caddo and headed for the bathroom. Once she’d sealed herself in, she took a deep breath. She was flustered enough from spending the day plastered against his back with the vibrations from that big bike stirring her up. She didn’t need him baiting her.
The flimsy shower stall was barely larger than a phone booth, and every time she moved, she banged her elbow into the plastic panels. She tried to imagine Panda attempting to wedge his body into such an uncomfortably small space.
His naked body.
She dropped her hands from the breasts she’d been soaping for too long. She was female. She couldn’t help the way Panda stirred her baser instincts. There was something primal about him. He was earthy and carnal, all brawn and muscle. Made for sex. It would be rough and raunchy, so different from sex with Ted, who’d been the gold standard of male erotic perfection—polished, inexhaustible, selfless.
Only now could she begin to admit how taxing that selflessness had been. She’d wanted to give back as good as she got, but what she got was so perfectly executed that she had no idea how to return it in equal measure, and that kept it from being as good as it should have been. She’d worried that her moans were too loud, her movements too awkward, her caresses too tentative, too rough, not in the right place. What if she was taking too long or her breath was bad or her thighs were jiggling? What if she farted?
All that stress.
It would be so different with Panda, so easy. He’d only be out for himself. And who cared what she did or what he thought about it? She could respond or not respond, however she felt. She wouldn’t need to worry about how her words, her actions, her moans—or lack of them—affected him.
The idea of simply taking what she wanted from a man who expected nothing except access to a female body tantalized her. All through high school and college, she’d fantasized about the wild men she sometimes encountered: the son of a wealthy socialite who’d supplemented his income dealing drugs, the college basketball player with the mile-wide grin who’d cheated on his exams, the guys with the cocky struts and cigarettes dangling from the corners of their mouths, the ones who drove too fast, drank too much, worked their bodies instead of their brains. And now Panda.
How would he react if she walked out naked? She couldn’t imagine that he’d turn away.
This trip was nearly over. She understood that, even if he hadn’t spelled out the exact timetable. Any day now, he’d be dumping her. Would she ever have a better chance for free, dirty, uncommitted sex? This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Was she going to let it pass her by?
Two weeks ago, she was engaged to another man—a man she still loved in so many ways. Jumping into bed with Panda would be unforgivable.
Still, the idea wasn’t altogether repellent.
She felt an irrational urge to talk this over with Ted. He was always clearheaded, and she wasn’t clear about anything right now.
Even as she dried off, she was still thinking about it. She knew what she wanted. Didn’t know what she wanted. Finally she decided on a coward’s compromise. She wrapped herself in the threadbare towel, opened the bathroom door, and said, “Don’t look.”
He looked. Not even being subtle about it but studying her in a way that made her skin hot. Long seconds passed before he spoke. “Are you sure about this?” No games. Straight to the point. Pure Panda.
“No.”
“You must be fairly sure.”
“I’m not.”
He took more time thinking it over than she’d expected. Finally he rose from the bed and jerked his T-shirt over his head. “I need a shower. If you’re still wearing that towel when I come out, lose it.”
She didn’t like this. N
ot the fact that he intended to shower—she knew exactly how grimy they were from their long bike ride—but she didn’t like having more time to think than she wanted. Was this the best way to move on from Ted or the worst?
The bathroom door banged shut. He’d left his phone behind, proof that he’d wiped it out again. She made a call. “Meg …”
“Luce? Honey, are you all right?”
“I’m … fine.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because …” Lucy paused. “Would I be … like … a total skank if I slept with another guy now? Like in about ten minutes?”
