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He holds the button for the elevator doors and motions for me to enter. “Well, you have me intrigued now.”
“As you should be.” I whip out my key card, brandishing it in the air between us like a trophy. “It’s a testament to minimalism.”
He gives a sage nod. “I see. The Japanese kind or the Scandinavian?”
“A mix.” I walk in front of him down the hall, past the vending machine. “Observe,” I say.
“Ah, the famous vending machine?” he asks and gives it a brief pat. “To think, it caused so much trouble.”
“I give it the finger every time I pass,” I say.
“Well, I should thank it,” Phillip says. “It meant you ended up in the pool with me at midnight.”
I reach my hotel door with a pounding heart and look over my shoulder at him. His eyes are heated, and his hands are in his pockets, and I know exactly what will happen if I let him into my little room with the AC unit in the corner, the beautiful carpeting, and the bright overhead lighting.
I turn the handle.
It’s slower this time. We take our time getting undressed, and he kisses every inch of my chest before he lets me take off his shirt.
I bury my hand in his hair and rake my nails over his scalp, and he groans, lips at my hipbone. I’d discovered just how much he enjoyed that yesterday.
“I want to try something,” I murmur and push at his shoulders. He lets me tug down his shorts and watches with color on his cheeks as I take him in my mouth.
He curses, eyes never leaving mine, and I feel powerful. I’m my vacation selfandI’m my regular Pinecrest self at the same time, and I’m watching a man come undone by my touch.
I haven’t felt like this in a long, long time.
“Fuck,” he says and slides a hand into my hair. “I don’t know what I’m gonna—oh.”
I’ve sheathed my teeth and upped the pressure, and he tips his head back, words forgotten. I feel like a goddess.
“You’re too good at that,” he mutters.
He pulls me up twenty seconds later, his eyes laser-focused on my underwear. He tugs them down, and then I’m on my back, the sunburn faded, watching him roll on a condom with lightning speed. He pushes into me a heartbeat later.
I tighten my legs around him and hold onto his shoulders, and I don’t let myself think that this might be one of the last times we do this.
Getting attached wasn’t part of the deal. Not the one I made with him, and definitely not the one I made with myself.
I’m not ready to have these feelings again, and I’m certainly not ready to get hurt again.Write books. Teach my students. Decorate my new house.
Pine over Phillip is nowhere on that list.
He slows down and thrusts deeper, his movements like waves crashing against me. He lifts one of my legs, and it takes me no time at all to finish. And I don’t know if it’s the sex itself, or him. This. The fact that we’ve been so open about all of it from the start.
A long time later, we amble down the corridor to the elevators. Phillip’s hand plays with the tie of my bikini top, hanging out over the back of my sundress.
“I love this one,” he mumbles. “The purple one. It looks so good on you.”
“Thank you.” Warmth blooms in my chest, and I pull him into the elevator. “I have an idea.”
He leans in, an arm braced on the elevator wall next to me. “Tell me.”
“They sell postcards in the lobby. I’ve seen them before.”
His eyebrows lower. “Not where I thought you were going with this.”
I chuckle. “I know, but hear me out. Let’s send a postcard to each other.”
