Page 61 of One for the Road
What the fuck was I doing?Stripping in front of her was most definitely in violation of the rules.
Dopamine. That was my only explanation. Oxytocin. Too many endorphins. Arousal was the perfect neurochemical soup to temporarily alter mental state. To increase pleasure. To narrow my focus to only this.Her.
I could have put a stop to it. Opened the door and run headlong into the sea. But then her eyes strayed. Roved over the dips and swells of my chest. She wasn’t quick about it either. I tried to keep my breathing even, fucking tried to not do something ridiculous like puff out my chest or flex my biceps.
When her gaze reached my belt buckle and my half-mast cock threatened to make things very awkward, I ground out, “You’re staring.”
“Making sure you didn’t get coffee on your loafers.”
I scoffed, grabbing up the T-shirt and holding it out to her. “Let’s go, funny girl.” I needed this over as quickly as possible.
“I’m not wearing a bra.”
Fuck. My eyes dropped to her breasts, just for a fraction of a second before I remembered to slam them shut.
It was official, I wasn’t making it out of this toilet block alive.
“Okay.” The word was rough, my tongue unpeeling from the roof of my mouth as my gaze landed somewhere over her shoulder. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to turn around and you’re going to clean yourself up the best you can. Okay? Then once you have my T-shirt on, I’ll check you over.”
Or I could step outside.
“Okay.” Did she sound relieved or disappointed? I couldn’t seem to tell the difference.
Turning, I pressed my hands flat against the door, anchoring myself with my fingertips. Preparing to wait.
The moment stretched. Then, “Do you wax your back?”
“What—” I coughed. “Whatkindofquestionisthat?” One that suggested she was still staring at me.
“One a girlfriend would know the answer to.”
“I doubt it will ever come up in conversation.”
“Cameron waxed his,” she said. “And his chest too . . . not that there’s anything wrong with that. But he used to leave the hairy wax strips by the sink for me to clean up.”Of course he did.
“I’ve never waxed in my life.”
“Oh. That’s fine too.”
I barked a laugh. What I wouldn’t give to peek inside this woman’s mind. “Isla.”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t hear you undressing, quit fucking stalling.”
“Sorry.” There was a bang – her knocking against the counter? – followed by the quiet shuffle of fabric peeling from skin. I closed my eyes. Ignored the rustle of her hair. Something hit the floor with a wet slap. My hands curled into fists on the door, breath punching out of my lungs.
Thinkofsomethingelse.
Anythingelse. Cameron’shairywaxstrips.Fungalnailinfections.
Half a foot. She was half a foot away from me, if I turned I could—
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” My entire body was as tight as a bowstring.
“There’s no tissue paper.”
