Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I was shredding his skin, tearing at him like there was something he still wasn’t giving me.
I felt a spreading warmth, a hot jolt of desire when his hands left my hair so they could wrap around my upper thighs. He repositioned me around his hips, and I felt him—hard as steel—as he rubbed against me. All that delicious pressure still wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I tried rolling my hips, chasing that feeling with everything I had, as his mouth slanted over mine, and we kissed like the government was about to decree that kissing was banned for life. These two mouths shall never touch again.
He was so fucking passionate.
I did not peg him to be like that. Cole is always so restrained, working his tidy little desk job, quiet and severe. But this version of Cole? This version was peeling me apart. Mr. Suit and Tie with his rough hands and sexy mouth. My bra strap slipped down my shoulder, and Cole helped it along, covering my wet skin with his warm palm, taking the weight of my breast in his hand like he owned it. My eyes pinched tight, and I leaned my head back, feeling the arousal thrumming between my legs. His thumb rolled over the tip of my breast, toying with me, and my legs clenched around him. He released a visceral groan, and then—like he couldn’t hold off for one more second—he bent to take my breast in his mouth. His tongue lapped over me, and I gasped, losing control when he began to slowly suck.
Panic seized me so swiftly that I didn’t think. I broke away and pushed him, hard. I scrambled back and caught myself, adjusting my bra strap, regaining my footing so I didn’t fall back in the dark water.
We stood across from each other on the sandbar as the ocean waves lapped against us. We were breathing like we’d just held our breath underwater past the point of pain, gasping with desperation. My breath hitched as it mixed with a repressed sob. I shook my head, staring at him.
His eyes were still full of arousal, but it was dimming by the second, shifting, dying.
What did we just do?! I screamed in my head.
WHAT DID WE JUST DO?!
The question was so loud I almost covered my ears, like that would help dampen the alarm bells. I couldn’t hear anything, not the rhythmic crashing of the waves on shore, not my name slipping from his lips.
I acted on pure impulse as I turned and fled back to the beach, swimming like I was being chased by a giant sea monster intent on swallowing me whole. I scrambled onto the sand and grabbed my clothes, tugging my shirt on and not even bothering with my shorts. I wanted to get away from Cole, away from my mistake, as fast as possible. I could only see things through the lens of my panic as I rushed away from that beach. What could have been consensual and fun felt dirty and wrong, like I’d thrown myself at Cole and he’d been forced to accept it. I was the one to invade his privacy on the beach when he was all alone. I forced us into the water. I jumped on him. And maybe now that I’m thinking back, I kissed him first. I can’t remember it clearly.
I’ve replayed that night in my head over and over, trying to piece the puzzle together from different angles. Sometimes I can convince myself that Cole was equally as invested, just as turned on as I was. The moans weren’t just slipping from my lips. Other times, I get so deeply embarrassed remembering it, it feels like someone is pressing a hot branding iron to my cheeks.
I considered calling in sick the next morning, to avoid the inevitable awkwardness, but I knew it would have to happen eventually. Grab hold of the Band-Aid and rip that sucker off, Paige.
I ran through all the possible excuses on my way to the main lobby:
Cole, oh my god. I was drunk last night. Sorry if I acted strangely!
Cole, I think I sleepwalked last night!
Cole, I don’t know how to explain this, but I fell prey to a Freaky Friday situation. Yes, the early 2000s movie with Lindsay Lohan where two souls swap bodies, uh-huh. So if I did something—like kiss you hardcore while desperately clinging to you in the ocean—that wasn’t actually me.
Also, I was drunk.
I walked through the sliding doors toward the main lobby with shaking hands and a queasy stomach. Forgoing breakfast had been a bad idea, but the thought of forcing down even a single bite of scrambled eggs was inconceivable. Just inside, I froze and scanned the lobby, searching for broad shoulders and a familiar head of black hair. I looked past the tacky prints of sailboats, the sculpture of a swordfish that collected dust on the center table, the mom with a heavy Jersey accent telling off her kids while rubbing her temples—“Joseph Anthony! Antonia! Giana! So help me, I’ll lose my friggin’ mind if yous guys don’t stop jumping on those chairs!”