Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
The bathroom door clicks open and Scarlett pushes through, stepping down into the room, fresh faced and beautiful, her skin a little darker than when we left home.
She stops and stares at my bare chest when she sees me, eyes dropping to the flat of my stomach. It’s rippled due to the way I’m positioned, the muscles hard as a rock.
“You took your shirt off.”
And my socks, and my belt.
My brow lifts. “Should I put it back on?” Better yet, should I take yours off?
“No.”
I reach for her hand, giving her a gentle tug toward me. Position her between my legs, hugging her waist, arms wrapped around her middle. Kiss the underside of her jaw, brushing away the hair falling over her shoulder.
“We’re totally alone,” she observes with a brow raised, dimple pressing into her smooth cheek.
“True.”
“It’s still early.”
I kiss her in reply, and this time my lips brush her collarbone. “Also true.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go do something? Play checkers perhaps?” Such a little tease.
“Want to play cards?” I call her bluff. “Or we could find a shuffleboard game on deck twelve.”
“Shut up,” she mumbles as she laughs.
“I’m just throwing out ideas—I didn’t say they’d be any good.”
“You’re really sweet, do you know that?”
No.
Not a single soul has ever told me I’m sweet, largely because I’m not…or they’re too busy using me for social gain to actually get to know me on a personal level—the way Scarlett has.
“Thanks.”
When she kisses my forehead, my eyes slide closed. When the tips of her fingers brush my cheekbones, I sigh, kissing her palm when it skates past my mouth. Her thumb drags tenderly along my chin, over my lips.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispers.
Hot. Handsome. Sexy.
Those are terms I’m more familiar with.
“I love your parents. They’re adorable.” Scarlett’s fingers rake through my hair, and I lean forward, burying my face in her cleavage.
“My parents are not adorable,” I mumble.
“I can’t decide if you look more like your mom or your dad.”
I’m a healthy mix of both—Dad’s height and Mom’s green eyes.
“Can we stop talking about my parents, please?”
“Sorry.” She chuckles, not sorry at all. “Thank you for this weekend.”
I angle my head toward her and she frames my face, cupping my jawline in her palms. “You’re welcome.”
Scarlett lowers her mouth. Presses her lips to the corner of my mine, first one side, then the other, kissing those tiny divots she seems so enamored with.
My lips fall open, wanting.
But she only settles her kiss on my bottom lip, brushing gently across the sensitive skin and creating a zing! down my spine like I’ve never felt before.
It’s not the same as being horny; this sensation is because I care about someone other than myself for a change. I’m in love with my friend and it’s giving me the goddamn chills, sitting here like this. In the quiet of this room, with the sound of the ocean beyond our door, the dull ache in my dick finds its way to my heart.
Squeezes.
I breathe in and out, unsuccessfully trying to control my heart rate.
I know where this is going to lead.
I thought I was ready. I’m not a virgin; I’ve fucked plenty of women, all of them more than willing, most of them the aggressors.
I can count on one finger how many times I’ve been nervous when I was about to have sex with someone, and this is that one moment.
Which is why the hands around Scarlett’s waist are fucking afraid to move. Physically, my body knows what to do; it’s my brain that’s giving me problems.
“Want to help me with the zipper of this dress, hmm?” Her murmur is as soft as her skin.
“Turn around.”
Slowly, she turns, presenting me with her back, pulling a mass of her dark hair forward so it doesn’t get caught when I drag the zipper down her spine. Waits while I give the metal pull a light tug, guiding it down the track as I’ve done for her several times before.
But never like this.
This time, I know where this is going to lead.
The light blue dress has spaghetti straps, and she shrugs those off her shoulders, baring her entire back. She’s not wearing a bra, but she is wearing underwear, the white fabric playing peekaboo above where the zipper stops.
Scarlett delicately shimmies, the dress sliding past her hips and thighs of its own accord, and settles on the floor in a dry puddle of blue material. Her feet are rooted to the ground, and for the briefest moment I consider not touching her, consider placing my hands on the top of my thighs and leaving them there.
But anticipation strums our nerves, a chorus to the waves drumming the hull of the ship, and I’m determined to control it.
“Why aren’t you touching me?” Scarlett whispers, still facing the opposite wall. “You’re making me nervous.”