Page 29 of Drive Me Wild
At least she’s a polite drunk.
She piles her hair on the top of her head and waits for me to do as she asks. I quickly slide down the zipper, fighting off the urge to skim my fingertips down the curve of her spine. I hand her a clean shirt from my suitcase, desperately keeping my eyes trained on the wall behind her and not the teardrop shape of her breasts. When I’m certain she’s dressed, I finally look at her. She’s staring at me with a frown, her lower lip jutting out. It’s the sexiest goddamn pout I’ve ever seen.
“You don’t want to have sex with me anymore,” she says in a resigned voice. “Why?”
“Of course I do, Josie.” I sigh. I cannot believe I’m having this argument. “Why doyouwant to have sex withme?”
Besides the fact that I’m extremely handsome, wildly hilarious, and talented as hell, of course.
“You’re my favorite banana.”
I tilt my head, unsure how a conversation about us having sex has anything to do with a banana. Josie hates bananas; she stares at them like they’re the reincarnation of an evil spirit. “Um, okay. Good for me, I suppose.”
Josie starts mumbling the chorus of “Good 4 U,” which adds zero clarification. I walk over to the mini fridge and pull out a water bottle that probably costs ninety bucks. Handing thebottle over to Josie, I watch as she slowly takes a few sips. She’s going to be miserable tomorrow morning when she wakes up to a mariachi band performing inside her brain.
After drinking half of the bottle, Josie wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Doyoulike bananas?”
I let out a confused laugh. “Yes.”
“What kind?”
Maybe I’m more drunk than I thought, because the look Josie’s giving me makes me feel like an idiot for not understanding what in the bloody hell she’s talking about. Is there more than one type of banana? Does she mean ripe versus unripe?
“We can revisit this conversation in the morning,” I suggest, because I’m too tired and confused to dig for more.
I strip down to just my briefs before leading Josie to the bed. She snuggles into the quality comforter and eight-hundred-thread-count bedsheets. No, the hotel doesn’t provide Egyptian cotton sheets and a newly dry-cleaned duvet. I bring my own because the thought of random people having slept in this same bed just a week ago makes my insides squirm.
“Theo?” Josie mumbles a few minutes later.
“Yeah, Jos?”
When she doesn’t answer right away, I assume she’s fallen asleep, but then I hear her tired voice. “You’re my favorite.”
A curious flutter stirs in the pit of my stomach at her words. Soft, deep breathing indicates that the alcohol has lured Josie into dreamland so there’s no need for me to respond. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed she didn’t get to hear that she’s my favorite, too.
TWELVE
THEO
Josie wakesme up at the goddamn arse crack of dawn by aggressively tapping my shoulder. I barely slept last night because she kept tossing and turning, accidentally rubbing against me, so I burrow deeper under the covers and ignore her. This doesn’t deter her. Instead, she just sneaks back under the covers and continues to poke me.
“May I help you?” I mumble, keeping my eyes shut.
“Did we have sex?” Her voice is raspy, adding another level to her sex appeal. “Or did I just wake up wearing your T-shirt for fun?”
My eyes fly open but it’s dark, so I push the covers down. Josie’s honey blonde hair cascades around her shoulders and her pouty lips part in anticipation. The covers are over my waist so she can’t see my morning wood, but there’s no chance it’s going away anytime soon with her… well, with her existing. Especially in my bed, wearing my shirt, giving methatlook.
“For fun,” I confirm reluctantly. “You tried to sleep with me, though. Said you wanted to lick every inch of me like a lollipop.”
She buries her head into a pillow. “That’s mortifying.”
“It was sexy as hell,” I reassure her. “I had to jerk off at two a.m. just to give myself some relief.”
“I don’t need to know those sorts of details, Theo.”
“It’s only fair since you told me you get yourself off to the memory of us having sex.” There’s no keeping the satisfied smirk from my face. That little nugget of information does wonders for one’s ego.
“Please check my pulse because there’s a chance I may die of embarrassment.”
