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It makes me feel sick to my stomach, so I look around for a distraction.
My bikini is hanging up to dry. I inspect it, but aside from the faint scent of chlorine, there’s no way to know if he told me the truth. I want it to be true. I want to think he came all over my bikini while thinking about me. The idea that Gabriel Sinclair has a filthy side turns me on enough that I start up the shower and dig through my toiletry bag for my little waterproof bullet vibrator.
I don’t think Gabe can hear the buzz over the sound of the shower, but I can hope. I can hope he hears it and pulls his thick cock out of those thin pajama pants.
My nipples tighten when I pass the bullet vibe over them, and I imagine a different ending to waking up with his cock in my hand. An ending where his raspy morning voice tells me to sit on his face. I can nearly feel his sinful lips on my inner thigh as he pulls me down to his mouth.
Wait.
Why am I thinking about Gabe when I should be thinking about Nic?
Oh, who cares. I nearly died last night. I deserve some release and it doesn’t mean anything if Gabe takes center stage this one time.
I chase the path fantasy-Gabe’s mouth takes up my thigh, working my way closer as I imagine the feel of his tongue, his lips. The taste of me is too much for him and he pumps himself hard as he eats me like he’s never tasted anything so good. He pauses long enough to tell me to suck him, so I do. His cock is silky smooth on my tongue. The tang of him—Christ, I press the vibe against my clit and bite my lip to keep from moaning.
When he finally loses the battle for control, I come so hard I drop the vibrator, crying out so loud he must hear me. There’s no knock on the door though. Because Gabriel would never.
The orgasm calms me down. My grabbing him this morning was an innocent, accidental grope. Not something that changes the fact that we need each other.
I get out and press my ear to the door and eventually open it a crack.
Gabe is gone.
Either he heard me and ran, or he left before. I doubt I’ll know which.
There might be cameras outside the hotel, so I take care to make my face effortlessly flawless.
When I come out, Gabe is still gone. I dress, pack up, and burn some nervous energy scrolling social media.
A Hilton employee uploaded the security video from the pool, and stills of Gabe carrying me, of my body wrapped around his, are everywhere. People are into it. Plenty of trolls are regretting that he didn’t let me drown, but the clickbait headlines are looking good. There’s speculation it was a stunt, of course, and me getting knocked into the pool by that kid has already been turned into a meme, but the image of me in Gabe’s arms is making people swoon, and maybe…maybe this is going to work.
Gabe returns with doughnuts and coffee, reporting that there are a few paps outside milling about, courtesy of David. He meets my eyes, unembarrassed, so I guess he didn’t hear me in the shower.
We don’t talk about how we woke up either, and I guess we’ll ignore that elephant. We eat in silence, drink our coffee in silence, and the only time either one of us speaks is when he asks if I’m ready.
I’m not ready, but I nod.
Gabe finds a hotel employee to help with my luggage, which is the least they could do since I nearly drowned in their pool.
Just before the elevator doors open into the lobby, he slides his hand over mine.
My heart flutters. What the hell? I was naked in the shower with this man last night. I grabbed his dick on accident this morning, but walking palm-to-palm with him across the lobby fills my body with butterflies?
This is the direct consequence of fantasizing about riding his face. It has to be. I won’t be making that mistake again.
He isn’t squeezing my hand or holding it tight. This is loose, our fingers entwined, palms grazing as we walk. It’s natural. Casual in a way I wouldn’t have thought to try.
We walk out into the bright sunshine and I feel oddly naked.
The car. I need to get to the car.
Gabe pauses, but I don’t. I let my hand slip free. He can stop for a phone call or to look at the clouds, for all I care. I need the shelter of his car and I need it now.
His hand brushes the back of my neck and I freeze when he grabs me. His fingers bite into my muscles, pinching a strand of hair in his grip, and when he pulls me around, what I see in his eyes blows everything inside me apart. It’s the same unwelcome desire I’m feeling, swirling in a storm that even the longest telephoto lens across the street can’t capture.
I’m alone in the middle of it. This storm is mine.
My knees betray me and I fall into him. His body is hard against mine. His cologne wraps around me, dark and sweet, calling to mind leather and rum, expensive cigars, and hot salty nights. This is nothing like anything I expected and suddenly I’m terrified I’m in over my head. This man could bare my vulnerable center to the entire world and I’d let him for a kiss.
