AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And when the perfect-temperature warm water starts cascading down my body, I close my eyes and understand why someone wants four showerheads. I would like one between my legs, too.
When I’m done—and the shower turns off on its own as soon as I step out—I pick up my damp hair, roll it into a rope, and tie it into a bun at the back of my head. Then towel myself dry and put on the shirt Archer gave me.
The shirt feels weird. The fabric is soft, almost silky to the touch as I smooth it down my body. It’s too large and comes down to just above my knees and somehow changes color. Or maybe it’s whatever drug that Doc gave me that’s starting to work.
The fact that I’m not wearing anything under it is a turn-on. But what the hell—I have nothing else to wear.
And maybe, just maybe…
I brush the images of Archer’s hands on me at the beach away and hurry to the living room.
19
ARCHER
The sightof Kat in a t-shirt in my kitchen makes me too aware of the fact that there’s nothing under it.
I open the containers from Tapas.
“Spanish food?” she asks, sliding onto the stool by the kitchen island and looking around with curiosity.
“Yes. But there’s a Thai dish,” I say.
She looks at me in surprise. “I didn’t know they make Thai on the island.”
“Just this one dish.”
“Awesome!” She grins, searching the open containers.
Bingo. I gathered since she lived in Thailand she would like Thai.
She loves it, devouring whatever that curry is with a spoon.
I love that about her. The way she studies everything with open curiosity, without pretending that she’s seen it before. The way she reacts genuinely to things she likes or doesn’t.
When she lets go of her act, she’s a firecracker. It’s an old-school word, but that’s her spirit. We are a generation of overstimulated and bored people. But Kat absorbs the world around her like she was let out of captivity—with genuine amusement. And I want to be around her spark.
She finishes her meal in minutes. Her eyelids are drooping. The medication Doc gave her is working. She doesn’t know it, but she’ll be out in less than an hour.
A pity. We could’ve played around.
“Soooo, what’s next?” she asks hesitantly as she pushes her plate away.
I barely ate, but watching her eat is almost as fulfilling.
I walk around the kitchen island and lean over behind her, taking the piece of grilled chicken she left on her plate and putting it in my mouth.
My hands are on the table, on each side of her, caving her in. I can smell my body wash on her. She smells like me, and it’s driving me nuts.
“What would you like to do next?” I ask, studying her neck and the side of her face.
She is inches away from me, and I would like to do a whole bunch of things with her. But Doc said to keep her away from doing any physical activity that would spike her blood pressure.
I could give her a massage with a slow happy ending. We could watch a movie on a projector as I stroked her pussy. Granted, with a happy ending.
Every scenario in my head in her presence is of a happy ending, and it’s fucking distracting.
“I don’t know,” she says quietly, a tiny smile on her face.
