But that’s not where my attention goes. It’s the glass dildo with the spiral of pink through the center, one end round, the other torpedo shaped, the length of it textured, sitting on a hand towel. A small travel bottle of cleaning solution sits beside it. Did she clean it because she used it recently, or because those security guards put their hands on pretty much everything in her carry-on?
My hard-on is raging now, and requires adjusting. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next ten minutes without doing something I shouldn’t, let alone the next two weeks. But God, do I ever want to. And if I’m reading her correctly, she would like very much to show me what’s under those pretty pink panties.
Sex with Amalie is probably a bad call. Picking her up from the other resort will inevitably cause more problems. Armstrong—paranoid dickwad that he is—will definitely believe that this was planned and he’ll likely convey that to Gwendolyn, who will inevitably say something to my mother. The reality is, I’ve done just as many reprehensible things to him as he’s done to me over the years.
But this is different. I’m not stealing something he thinks is his. He fucked this up. He ruined the good thing he had. That’s not my fault. And if I’m completely honest with myself, I don’t want the Fuck-Me Erics on this resort to get anywhere near her again. If she keeps pushing I’m likely to break, and I think I might be okay with that.
“Did you find the first-aid kit?” Amalie calls from the other room.
“Yup. Got it.” I bring it back to the main room, along with a towel so she doesn’t get blood on the sheets. Amalie’s sitting on the edge of the bed, inspecting her big toe. I notice the water bottle has been opened and most of the contents have disappeared, which is good. I drop the case on the bed and flip it open, plucking out the things I need. I tap her hip. “Scoot back and let me take a look.”
“I can handle it.”
“So can I.”
She smiles wickedly. “Is this your way of getting in bed with me?”
I slip an arm under her knees and one behind her back, lifting her until she’s settled against the pillows. I edge a knee between hers, holding myself above her. What the fuck am I doing? Her eyes are wide, full of surprise and heat. Longing and maybe just a hint of uncertainty follow. “Is that what you want, Amie? Me in your bed?”
She bites her lip, teeth pressing gently into the skin as she regards me. “What if I do?”
“That’s the martinis talking,” I whisper, trying to make it a joke when what I really want is to just give in.
“It’s not the martinis talking,” she whispers.
“What if tomorrow I’m a mistake you can’t take back?” I sit back on my heels and press her knees together. I run my hands down the back of her calves. Her skin is so smooth, soft, warm.
When her eyes drop I know I have my answer. I might want her, and she might think she wants me, but I don’t want to be her regrettable decision. Not the kind she wants to erase like the last year of her life. I lift her foot and set it on my thigh, taking in the damage.
“What’re you doing?”
“Taking care of your toe, like I said I would.” It really is a mess. The nail is cracked in half and there’s a piece missing. It needs to be disinfected, clipped, and bandaged.
I pick up the antiseptic spray and Amalie tries to jerk her foot from my grasp.
“You can’t use that! It’ll hurt.”
“It’ll be fine. This needs to be cleaned.” I give it a couple of quick squirts.
Amalie shrieks like I’ve just sprayed her with acid and then her mouth turns down. “Oh. That wasn’t so bad.”
I chuckle at her chagrined expression. “I told you it would be fine.”
“Yeah, but fine usually means the exact opposite, so I expected it to be not fine.”
“In this case fine doesn’t have an alternate meaning. I’m going to clean up the nail so it’s not so jagged, okay?” This is easier to deal with. The taking care of her part I can manage, when there’s a task to focus on, so I’m distracted from the other, less acceptable things I want to do to her.
“Okay.” She exhales quickly, then pulls her other leg up to her chest, tucking her toes under her knee, obstructing any view I might have of those damn panties.
I get out the little pair of scissors, and the first snip is fine, but she jumps at the next one. “Amalie. You need to hold still.”
“It hurts!”
“Stop looking and it’ll hurt less.”
“I hate you right now.” She flops back on the bed and grabs a pillow, pulling it over her head. It’s pretty entertaining. She stretches out her other leg and tucks it under mine, her toes digging in as I keep clipping the nail back as far as I can, smoothing out the rough edge.
I have a feeling she should probably have this looked at, but we’ll know better in the morning when the bleeding has stopped. Or she’ll know, since I won’t be here by then.
Once I’m finished, I wrap it in gauze so she doesn’t catch it in her sleep or bleed on the sheets. I pat her knee. “All done.”
One eye peeks out from under the pillow. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I put everything back into the first-aid kit and move to the edge of the bed.
“Where’re you going?”
I pause. “To put this away.”
Amalie starts to pull her knees up to her chest, but thinks better of it. “Are you going to leave after that?”
I should. Definitely. “Do you want me to?”
With a shake of her head she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I was alone all day. I don’t want to be alone again. Yet.” And there it is, that innocent look. I wonder if she even realizes the kind of power she has, or if she’s oblivious to it.
“I’ll stay for a while on one condition.”
Her tongue peeks out and a small smile curves those luscious lips. “What’s that?”
“You change out of this dress.”
“What’s wrong with my dress?”
“Absolutely everything.”
She looks down at herself with a frown. “I thought it looked . . . nice.”
“Nice is not the word I would use to describe this.” I motion to the dress.
Her mouth drops open, then snaps shut in irritation. “It’s sexy!”
“Ya think?” Before I really consider my actions I slip my hands under the backs of her knees and bend them, giving me an incredible view of those motherfucking panties. I hold her knees tight together, otherwise I’m going to find myself between her legs. “I’m human, Amie, I can only behave myself for so long.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to behave.” I can feel pressure on my palms, as if she’s trying to push her knees apart.
“Amie.” It’s as much as warning as a plea.
She places her hands over mine, keeping them there. “Did you really mean what you said?”
“Probably, I don’t have a reason to lie to you, but it would help if I knew what exactly you’re referring to.” I’ve said a lot of things that I probably shouldn’t have tonight, on the plane, the night of her wedding.
“That ‘no was the last thing you wanted to say.’” She drops her head. “Or were you just being nice? Is that what you’re doing now?”
“You think this is me being nice?”
She lifts her shoulder and lets it fall. I don’t know how to read her, one second she’s pushing all my buttons and the next she’s timid and uncertain.