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His arms are so warm and comforting, but I’m still covered in sweat from last night. Five more minutes. Then I’ll get up and break out of this daydream that can’t last.
I settle in and let myself be held, his breath tickling the back of my neck with each fall of his chest.
I think I must have fallen asleep again because when I open my eyes back up, Joel has rolled onto his back, freeing me from the cuddle. Not that I really wanted to be freed, but this means I can get up and pull myself back to reality. Which is going to start with a shower and a glass of water because my mouth is drier than a desert.
As quietly as I can, I peel myself out of bed and dash back to my room completely naked. There hadn’t been time for any foresight like ‘get clothes for the morning’ last night. There was no room for anything sensible between our bodies.
How can I be horny for him again? It’s not like he didn’t make me come enough last night.
I rummage through my suitcase which is still dumped on the floor in the corner, my clothes spilling out onto the carpet in a sea of blue and white. Any order that there had been to my packing is long gone so I don’t even bother to keep anything neat. I’m sure I had another pair of yoga pants in here, or at least something comfortable enough to lounge in.
Finally, I find them, stretchy and star-printed, and drag them on along with a plain T-shirt. I don’t bother with underwear. For one thing, I’m about to shower, and for another, I need to let some air in down there.
My head is pounding right now, though. Dehydration, most likely. I sneak out into the kitchen, painfully aware of every noise my feet make on the wood floor. I hope Joel isn’t a light sleeper.
I grab a glass from a cupboard. Ben has one of those fancy fridge water filters, so I shove the cup into it and let it fill. I’d put ice in, but the noise of that clunking into the glass isn’t worth it.
As I let the cool water sweep through me, I lean against the counter and close my eyes. This is so not how I expected this week to go. And fantastic as it’s been, I need it to end here. I cannot keep fucking a guy in my brother’s house in secret. It makes me feel like a teenager, the two of us fooling around and getting into all sorts of trouble behind our parents’ backs.
The issue is, as grown adults, we can make our own choices, and I really, really want to keep choosing this.
A shower will fix me. I’m going to finish this water then I’m going to wash all these feelings down the drain and chalk the whole affair up to the fact that I haven’t been laid in years and I forgot how good it feels to have someone kiss you like you’re their everything.
“Morning,” says Joel, making me jump.
“Don’tdothat,” I scold, though I’m not really angry. How can I be when he’s wandering around out here without a shirt on, showing off his perfectly tanned skin and gently toned abs.
He throws up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Next time I’ll stomp real loud so you hear me coming.”
I make a face at him and stick out my tongue which is kind of childish but I haven’t got a better comeback. He winks at me and goes into the refrigerator. I notice his hand instinctively reach for a beer, but then he hesitates and grabs a carton of orange juice instead to take a swig. I hold in my smile; I don’t want him to feel like I’m patronizing him for being proud of his growth.
Is it naïve to believe that a handful of days is enough to change him for good?
“So…” I start, not sure how to say what I have to say. “Last night.”
“Last night,” he echoes.
“Mistake?” I ask, uncertain and hesitant, sipping my water.
He takes another shot of juice. “You think?”
“I don’t know.”
Lying now seems to be pointless and if I’m lucky, he’s feeling as conflicted as I am. He nods slowly, weighing things up inside his head. The morning sun stretches in through the window, bright on his body, drawing my eyes to him like a spotlight. His hair is ruffled from sex and sleep, but despite being the least polished self he could be, he’s still alluring to me. I still want to stare at him.
I’m hoping the weird look he’s giving me means something similar is going through his head.
“I guess you’re right,” he frowns, putting the juice down on the countertop and turning to face me squarely. “We should probably not do that again.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my heart and hopes falling. I shouldn’t be disappointed. As if a handsome billionaire was going to like me. “Probably not.”
I’m so busy trying not to let my face show the heartbreak I’m feeling that I barely notice him get closer to me until he’s just inches away. I blink up at him and see he’s wearing that grin and I realize he’s just toying with me. Despite being midday, it’s too early for this kind of emotional rollercoaster.
I raise an eyebrow at him. With all the sincerity of a kid lying about pushing his little brother over, he says, “A huge mistake, right? You and me?”
Slowly, I nod, putting my glass down, examining his expression to make sure I’ve got this game right. “Oh, huge. Definitely shouldn’t be repeated.”
I shuffle a little closer to him, looking up to stare into his twinkling eyes. “Definitely.”
