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“I still think he’s a conceited prick who needs to be knocked down a peg or ten, but I’m just glad you’ve met a man who knows what he’s doing for once in your life,” says Rami with a wink, leaning her muscular arm against the door frame of my room.
“Yeah, he barely skipped a beat when he saw us,” adds Fran. “Just got right back to it.”
“Don’t,” I plead in embarrassment as Fran breaks into a toothy grin, the setting sun turning her loose ginger hair into gorgeous amber flames.
“Girl, that was so fucking hot,” she adds.
“I swear to God,” I say, lowering the volume of my voice on the off chance it carries through the open window of my room and straight into Grey’s earhole in the house next door. “I’ve never had an orgasm like it.”
“So you said this morning,” smiles Fran.
“Twice,” adds Rami.
“I know,” I groan. “But honestly that man’s tongue… It could bring about world peace. Seriously, it deserves an award for service to womankind.”
“Or maybe it’s justyouthat brings out his generous side.”
“Yeah, right,” I shoot back, wondering how many women have enjoyed the talented Mr. Everitt’s tongue and how the hell a Grade A piece of prime meat like that can be single, if he is as he says he is.
Maybe it’s his objectionable personality, I ponder internally.
“He just knows he has them lining up,” I moan.
“Kind of like a firing squad,” smirks Rami, making Fran and I, who’ve both had a glass too much rosé, fall into fits of giggles.
“Yeah, well, it’s just a holiday fling,” I add. I’ve reminded myself of that fact about fifteen times today, even though the thought stupidly lets sorrow seep into my gut. “That’s why I decided to go for it. I know I’ll never see him again after this.”
“I’ll send you a new vibrator to help you recover from the loss,” drones Rami as I grin in response, polishing off the glass of rosé, which I’m drinking so fast partly to stay my nerves over Greyson who’s due to turn up in less than half an hour.
I’m taking you to dinner. And then, I’m going to make you come again.
His words cause a riot inside my body, almost blocking out the anxiety I feel over touching another man. Micah once told me that if I did, he’d kill me. Oh, that on top of him promising to cut my face up so no one would ever want me.
It’s probably best it’s just a holiday romance.
I wouldn’t want to date anyone seriously until this mess with him is over and done with.
“Do you judge me?” I ask. “About the vow.”
“You didn’t have sex, did you?” asks Fran in her tight burgundy T-shirt and white ass-hugging shorts which show off her gorgeous lithe body.
“No.”
“Then, fuck it. Make him your slave.”
“Stop,” I giggle.
“I don’t know how you had that much self-control,” adds Fran.
“God, neither do I. If it didn’t make me look weak, I honestly would have paid him to fuck me by the end.”
“Oh, he already knows you’re weak,” ribs Rami before inquiring, “So, are we sticking to Arlo’s famous vow?”
Fran pivots to stare at me naughtily. “I thought it was over.”
“Arlo said we should stick to it till we leave the island.”
Fran and I glance at each other. “Yeah, fuck that,” we respond, trying not to laugh at Rami’s teasing unimpressed look at our complete collapse of our self-control.
