Page 57 of Cuts like a Knife
Oh god. We’re not even touching and yet I can feel the long line of his body. It’s as if it’s pressed against mine. I can smell his signature scent — warm, spicy. My knees go embarrassingly weak. This is what happens with Drew. This is why he’s so damn dangerous. I feel my resolve weakening and let my head turn, my mouth grazing the skin of his neck, moving up to his ear, as his stubble rasps against my cheek.
Maybe … I’ll give in. Just a little. Maybe we can be this. Whatever this is. For the next few days anyway. Or maybe a little longer. While we’re far from home. And then … we’ll be done. I can’t let him get any closer and I can’t let this be any more real, but I can do this. For a few more days.
It’s being here in the Bahamas. In the warmth, with the salt air and palm trees. It’s like … Vegas. It doesn’t count.
“You know what we are,” I whisper in his ear, my lips light against his skin. I give his ear lobe a tiny lick. I can’t help myself. I know it drives him crazy and he shouldn’t be the only one in a thrall. “This,” I say. “We are only this.”
He groans a little.
“We should be more,” he says.
“This will have to be enough for you. You’re not getting any more.”
He pulls me sharply then, right up against him, his arm hard around my waist, and I feel how much he wants me. He doesn’t answer. In a moment, his mouth is on mine.
And then he’s carrying me like I weigh nothing, to that white bed in that little room191.
As the fan spins lazily above us, his tongue travels the length of my body, from my neck down between the centre of my breasts, and lower until I gasp.
I hear the rhythmic crashing of the ocean waves and the wind in the palms and my own cries of pleasure and it’s all there is.
Good or bad, right or wrong, this is what we are.
I can’t think about anything else all night long.
~
I open my eyes to a blank white ceiling. The fan is turning lazily and Drew is nowhere to be seen. The bed is empty and I am alone.
Good.
Mornings after are always so … awkward. Not my thing.
For a few moments I bask in the relative relief of my solitude, then the sound of a pan banging onto a stovetop reaches my ears from the kitchen and I smell the distinctive scent of brewing coffee and I immediately tense up.
Drew obviously thinks we’re going to have some sort of lovey-dovey morning after breakfast and like, we’re not. We’re definitely not.
This is not that kind of relationship.
Dammit, why do I always do this? This is exactly the problem with me and Drew. I resolve to be clear, to break ties, to finally stop this ridiculous thing, and then somehow I end up back here. Back in bed. Back with Drew cooking breakfast and acting like we’re in love and we might get married or something.
Maybe it’s my fault he’s confused. Then again, I’ve told him — I’ve told him time and time again that this — him and me, us — is just a bit of fun. We’ve never been anything more and we never will be. I’ve told him that. So if he’s confused, he’s not listening and it’s not my fault192.
I climb out of bed and find my suitcase and dress as quickly and quietly as possible, which is silly. I realize even as I’m doing it that there’s no point. This cottage is a shoebox. It’s not like I have a chance of sneaking out. Besides, that would be idiotic. And rude.
I’ll just … behave normally. I need to get to work back at the resort. It’s fine.
Eventually, I pop out of the bedroom with my laptop bag already slung over my shoulder, hopefully signaling that I’m heading into professional mode for the day and don’t have the time or inclination to engage in a morning-after chat.
“You’re awake,” Drew says when he sees me. “Just in time for breakfast.”
Ugh. He’s made eggs. And toast. And coffee. And set the table.
“Thanks so much, but I don’t really have time. I’ve got to get back to the resort. It’s a full-on day of work for me.”
I hurry past him to the kitchen where I fill my tumbler with the coffee he’s made. No need to skip that193, but I make sure to keep moving, no eye contact.
“I’m going to be going back to the hotel myself in a bit,” he says, easily. “We can ride together.”
