There are so many options.
A hotel in Cambodia. A luxury resort in the Caribbean.
Or time to myself. Alone. With a pen and paper and plenty of space to unleash my thoughts.
I guess I can do that anywhere. But doing it in my room—a new room, with air-conditioning, and a queen bed, and one of those fancy adjustable height desks, and actual painted walls—
That’s what I want.
A space that’s mine.
Mine and Addie’s. With no ugly memories. No deadbeat fathers on the lease. No assholes aware of the address.
After that… a week in the Caribbean. Or back to the Hamptons with Marisol’s family. Their house is sweet and her sister is really nice. Even if I never, ever want to see my sister make out with her girlfriend again.
And that night…
Shudder. I love Addie more than anything, but I really don’t need to hear her come.
Damn. I’m already thinking in terms of sex. Everything is straight to sex.
I contemplate the matter when I break in the bathroom. Rinse my mouth. Reapply my lipstick.
There. Perfect.
A punk rock sexpot. My snug dress is short enough it’s sexy. And the way Ian stares at my legs like he’s thinking about diving between them.
I like it.
I like it way too much.
I like him way too much.
And maybe… Maybe I’m ready to answer his question.
Deep breath. Steady exhale. Utmost confidence. I compose myself, then I move back to the balcony.
It feels more private in the dark. With him in the middle of the couch, his eyes on me, his posture proud and in-control.
He motions come here.
I take a step toward him. Then another. Another.
My knees brush his slacks.
He offers his hand. For support.
I take it. Let him pull me into his lap.
My knees plant outside his thighs. His hands go to my hips. Slowly, he pulls me closer. Until I’m sitting on his thighs.
“Did you like it?” His hands curl around my hips. A soft pressure. Just enough to say I’ve got you.
“Dinner?”
He nods.
“It was perfect.”
“I’ve earned another chance?”
My tongue slides over my lips. He’s not asking about our next dinner. He’s asking about this. Right now. Him… I don’t know what he’s going to do. Only that I want it. “Yes.”
“Good.” He traces the line of my body, over my hip, my waist, my shoulder. My jawline. It’s soft. Gentle. Precise. “I want to know what you like.”
I nod.
“Everything you like.” His hand cups the back of my head. His eyes flutter closed. He pulls me into a slow, steady kiss.
His lips against my lips.
The taste of gin and lime.
A tiny brush.
Then more. His hand knots in my hair. My legs spread. My pelvis shifts. Closer. But not close enough.
Nothing is close enough.
My hand curls around the back of his neck.
His tongue slips into my mouth. He explores my mouth with steady, patient movements. He pulls me closer. Closer.
Until I can feel him hard under me.
It’s not the first time. I had boyfriends in high school. But this is different. Better.
So much better.
I rock my hips an inch. Just enough to feel his erection. That sensation of hardness and warmth between my legs.
It’s good.
So fucking good.
I’m a writer. I should be more articulate. But I’m not in touch with fancy words. Only primal ones.
Yes. Now. More. Please.
He tugs at my hair. The sharp pull makes my sex clench. Yes. Now. More. A groan falls off my lips.
He places a kiss on my jaw. Then a line down my neck. Soft pressure. Then harder. Harder. Hard enough I yelp.
Ian releases me. He looks me up and down, settling on my chest. “I want to see you, vixen.”
I don’t need extra detail. Only the hunger in his eyes. I nod. Push my right strap off my shoulder. Then the left.
They fall down my arms, but my dress stays in place.
It’s tight. Corset lacing. Tight enough I don’t need a bra.
He brings his hands to the fabric. Peels it down my chest a quarter inch at a time.
My breath catches in my throat.
My fingers curl into my skirt.
My thighs shake.
This is a secluded balcony, but it’s still a public place. I’m still exposed. To him. The server. Anyone who walks by.
Why is that so enticing?
He pulls my dress lower. Low enough my breasts spill from the fabric.
My sex clenches. The exhibition is thrilling. And the look in his eyes—like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen—
Fuck. I need this. Him. Everything.
“Beautiful.” He cups my breasts with his hands. A soft pressure. Then it’s his thumb against my nipple.
A groan falls off my lips.
“Like this?” He drags his thumbs over my nipples again. Softly. Then a little harder. A little harder.
“Mmm.”
“Harder?” He increases the pressure again and again. Until it’s more rough than tender. Until it’s all rough.
“The middle.”
There. Less pressure. Then a little more. Just right.
He watches me with rapt attention as he draws circles.