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“Yeah,” I say, though I don’t see it. They all look the same to me.
“Let me find the remote, and we can pick a movie.” She spots the remote on the dresser.
There’s no seating in here other than the stool for her vanity, so I take a seat on the bed. Bending over, I remove my boots before scooting back against the headboard. I should head back to the clubhouse. Tripod wasn’t done updating us with news from the other charters, but I got nervous leaving Vivi at the bar alone, so I told them I’d be back later. That changed when she said she planned to hang out in the lounge. I don’t know what kind of assholes are out there, which would drive me insane. So, I’ll watch a damn movie, and hopefully, she’ll be tired enough to go to bed after.
“What do you think?” she asks, kneeling on the bed before lowering to all fours. Immediately, my dick thinks she’s crawling to me, that she has plans to unbutton my pants and suck me off.
“About?” I mumble, my eyes glued to the neckline of her tank where it gapes. She doesn’t have a bra on, and small as they are, her tits swing with each forward movement.
She plops down next to me, killing the fantasy and dropping me back into reality. Goddamn.
“The movie,” she says dumbly.
“Right.” I sigh. “I don’t care. Put on whatever you want.”
She starts some Netflix movie that I can’t focus on. Having her this close, where I can smell her floral scent and feel her body heat radiating down my side, is distracting, especially when she settles in, her shoulder pressing against mine.
This isn’t who I am. I’m not the dude who gets caught up in a girl and is satisfied just by having them close. I’m the guy who doesn’t ask for names, who fucks chicks anywhere but my cabin so I don’t have to worry about them staying the night. Yet here I am, like a punk ass bitch, getting hard over her fucking shoulder touching mine.
“I’m proud of you, you know?” she says out of nowhere.
I look over at her. “Oh yeah? For what?”
“You’ve made a great life for yourself.”
“I have,” I agree.
“I want what you have.” She tucks her hands between her knees. “A place of my own with friends who feel like family.”
“You will.”
“If you’d said that a month ago, I would’ve argued. But I can almost see it now, and I have you to thank for that. So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Something from our conversation pops back into my head. “What did you mean when you said you were reclaiming your sexuality?”
She goes still. “I was just babbling nonsense. I drank those beers too quickly.”
“You had to mean something by it, or you wouldn’t have said it.”
She thinks about that for a long while. I can’t tell whether she’s working out her wording or coming up with a lie. “I’ve only had one partner, and he wasn’t very good.”
“He didn’t get you off?”
She covers her face. “I can’t have this conversation with you.”
“Why not?”
She won’t make eye contact with me. “It’s embarrassing.”
“If you can’t talk to me, who can you?”
Her hands drop. “Literallyanyoneelse.”
“I’m kind of an expert in this arena.” I’m joking, but also, I’m not. Club life isn’t just good for the brotherhood. I had club sluts dropping their pants the second I became a prospect, and they weren’t shy about teaching me how to please them.
“Gross.” She shoves me.
“I’m serious. Tell me about it.”
