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The sliver of moon that had been barely lighting up our pathway through the trees disappeared behind a cloud. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight app.
She stopped for a moment to adjust her blanket and then kept walking. “I hope you really do like college basketball because if there’s a Wildcat game on Saturday, that’s what you’ll be doing with him.”
“I do like watching sports, so I’ll be fine. And you’ll get to spend some time with your mom.”
She was quiet for several minutes after that, probably thinking about her mom’s situation.
She sighed. “It sounds like we’re doing a hydrotherapy session tomorrow. I’m not sure what that is. Do you know?”
It didn’t matter to me what it was. If I got to see Summer in a bikini, it was going to be fun. “Maybe it’s water aerobics or something? She did say it looked neat.”
“That’s what she said about the yurt,” Summer responded sardonically.
“The yurt is neat.”
“It would be neater if I didn’t have to traipse through the snow in the bitter cold,” she grumbled.
I watched her from the side of my eyes. “It’s very romantic, though.”
“True,” she agreed. “Are you a romantic guy?”
I thought about it. My knee-jerk answer was ‘no’. There wasn’t much romance in my life. Sex was just a transaction to me. It occurred backstage, in hotel rooms, on the tour bus, in our dressing rooms, and sometimes it was even less glamorous places — in restrooms or dark corners of parties or nightclubs. Occasionally, I went back to a girl’s apartment, but I always left as soon as possible. Sex had been limited to one-night stands and most of the time those encounters lasted much shorter than a night. They were more like one-hour stands. And not one of them had even a lick of romance involved. Maybe I was missing out?
“I have a romantic side.” I was being flirtatious, but it didn’t feel misleading. If romance was what it took to get Summer to have sex with me, I’d happily go for it.
She grew quiet, and I wondered if she was thinking about us spending the night together in the yurt like I was. Would she sleep with me? I wanted to, but she had to want me. I wouldn’t push her into it. Persuade her, sure.
The chill was seeping into my bones and I estimated we were only about halfway to the yurt. I rubbed my hands together, trying to keep them warm.
Summer offered me some of the blanket. “You must be freezing.”
Without speaking, I took her up on her offer. Sliding next to her, I pulled the blanket around the both of us. I expected it to be difficult to walk together because of our differences in sizes, but she fit perfectly tucked in under my arm. Within minutes, I was feeling much warmer. Warmer ... and hornier.
The path bent to the right, and then the yurt came into view.
“Thank God,” she muttered.
We both picked up the pace and finally, we were inside, huddled around the stove that was giving off a lot of heat until we’d warmed up. Summer folded up the blanket and dropped it onto the bed and then peeled off my hoodie.
“What are we going to do now?” She looked at me quizzically.
Her question was innocent, but as the seconds ticked by, the dirtiest of thoughts were running through my head and I was pretty sure hers, too, as evidenced by the blush on her cheeks.
She looked away quickly. “I’m going to take a shower.”
She gathered up her things and then escaped to the tiny bathroom nook that was separated from the main room by a flimsy hanging curtain.
The water started running. I needed a distraction, but there was really nothing to do in here. Without my guitar, cell service, or even something to read, I was lost. I sat down on the edge of the bed.
Less than ten feet separated me from a naked Summer. I could hear the water tempo change as she moved around in the shower. My hands fisted in the blanket.
The scent of sweet, tropical florals with a hint of citrus wafted from the tiny nook and hit me like a punch to the gut. My hands squeezed into fists as I imagined the soapy water running all over her curvy body. By the time the water stopped, I was as hard as a rock.
Ten minutes later, she came out of the bathroom dressed in modest pajamas with a freshly scrubbed face and her hair combed but still damp. God, she was adorable.
“There’s no blow dryer,” was all she said.
I watched as she fluttered around nervously, putting away her toiletries. “We can pick one up at the hotel tomorrow if you need it.”
