He pulls himself out of the water, hopping up onto the deck and grabbing a towel on the way to the door. I don’t like the idea of being in the water alone in the dark, but I can’t very well follow after him otherwise I’ll be flashing the concierge, and with Lex being who he is, that’s definitely not a good idea, so I float over to the ladder and wait for him to close the door before I climb out, careful not to catch my toe on the boards. I wring out my hair and grab a robe.
Lex sets the tray on the coffee table. It’s quite the spread; I don’t even know where to start. I sit on the couch cross-legged and pop a strawberry in my mouth, groaning at the sweet explosion. I could probably inhale almost everything on this platter.
“Sparkling wine or water?” A bottle of San Pellegrino and a sister bottle of sparkling wine accompany the food.
“Both?” I’m not feeling the martinis I drank this evening anymore, or the wine I consumed over the course of the afternoon.
Lex pours a glass of each for me and does the same for himself. He’s still just wearing a towel around his waist, and I’m in the robe, but neither one of us seems to mind. I certainly don’t have a problem looking at his chest.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He pops an olive in his mouth.
He’s so easygoing. The exact opposite of Armstrong. We would never eat on the couch, wrapped in towels or bathrobes, fresh from the ocean. He would’ve insisted on a shower, and getting changed, and eating at the table.
“How’d you get those scars on your back?” I go for a piece of cheese next.
“An accident when I was younger. Fucking around, being dumb. I fell and ripped my back open, needed a lot of stitches.”
“How many stitches did you have? That must’ve hurt.”
Lex shrugs and picks at the platter. “Dunno. It didn’t feel good, but I survived, so there’s that.”
Survived? Jesus. “What kind of accident? What did you fall on?”
“Some rocks. We were swimming where we shouldn’t have been.”
“We? Who were you with?”
He hesitates for a few seconds, fingers tapping restlessly on the arm of the couch. “Some buddies. Armstrong was there.”
“He’s not big on swimming.” Part of the reason for the beachfront hut was his dislike of deep water. That we ended up at a beach resort at all is pretty much a miracle.
“No. He’s not.” The finger tapping continues. “We used to spend a lot of time together as kids. We were pretty competitive with each other, sometimes not in a good way. That day we were drinking and things got a little out of hand. He jumped into the river and the current was way too fast.”
“I can’t even imagine Armstrong willingly jumping into a river.” He gets nervous when he’s anywhere near water that’s more than waist deep.
“He wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and the booze gave him some balls. He panicked and I went in after him. He came out with a couple of bruises and I came out with some scars.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, speaking of accidents, how’s that toe feeling? We should probably change the bandage now that you’ve been in the water.”
Obviously he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, based on the swift change of topic. I still don’t quite understand why they hate each other so much when it seems like Lex saved Armstrong’s life.
“We can look at it when we’re done eating. I’m salty, and I need a shower.”
He leans in and kisses my neck, tongue sweeping across the skin. “You are salty.” He nabs a strawberry and, biting the end, drags it across my lips, sucking on the bottom one. “And sweet.”
I get caught up in kissing him for a few minutes. After that, we make out between bites of fruit.
When we’re full we head to the bathroom. I don’t know what to expect after the shower, but I’m hoping he’ll want to stay the night. Or what’s left of it.
I pause when I see my glass friend sitting on the vanity. Lex is right behind me, clearly having recovered from the last round of sex based on the way he’s poking me in the back, not with his finger. His mouth is at my ear. “I’d like to see what exactly you do with that.”
“Right now?” My voice is high, nervous.
He chuckles. “Not right now. Later. Tomorrow maybe. Or the day after that. I’d actually like to get my hands on that tickle trunk of yours. I wasn’t kidding about being your beta tester.”
Oh God. He’s talking like tonight is going to continue, possibly as a regular occurrence. Maybe the entire time we’re here. And I want that. I want him.
“Come, shower, we need to manage the mess I’ve made of your hair.” I catch a horrifying glimpse of my reflection in the mirror.
The shower inevitably leads to sex—thankfully I packed condoms—which leads to more orgasms, which exhausts me. By the time we’re done it’s almost three in the morning. I fall naked onto my bed, and roll onto my back while Lex rewraps my toe.
“Will you stay?” My stomach dips at the tilt of his head. “The night? Will you . . .” I stop. Bite my lip. I hate how nervous I am. This is uncharted territory. It’s not simple. It’s a complicated situation that’s suddenly even more complicated because I actually want him to stay. I don’t want to be alone here. I want to be wrapped up in him, grounded, protected from all the things I’m not ready to deal with. Is it fair? I don’t know. Probably not, but I still want him anyway. Even if it’s just for this two-week span of time. I want hot sex and easy companionship. I want this chemistry even though I’m afraid of it. I want to not be an emotional mess. The silence between us drags out. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
Lex clears his throat. He’s still holding my bandaged toe. I’m still naked. He’s only in a towel. “If you want me to, I can.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But you want me to?”
“Not if you don’t want to.” I wish I was wearing something. I wish I didn’t feel so naked, and not just physically.
There’s softness in his eyes and his voice with his reply. “Tell me what you want, Amie.”
I like the way it sounds when he says my name like that. “I want you to stay.”
He drops the towel, parts my legs, and climbs between them. “Now was that so difficult to say?”
“Yes.”
He pushes up on one arm. “Why was that hard?”
A piece of truth slips out. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”
He drags gentle fingers down my cheek. “Well, I guess that depends.”
“On?”
“On what you want.”
“What about what you want?”
“I’m already getting what I want.”
“Which is?”
He drops his hips. “You. Naked. Me, inside you.”
“Again?”
“Only if you want.”
“Yes. Please.”
*
“Amie, baby, I gotta go.”
My eyes flip open and I blink against bright sunshine. The male voice does not belong to Armstrong, and it takes me a second to remember where I am.
It takes another second or two to process the incredible vision of man in front of me. Lexington Mills is standing beside the bed dressed in a charcoal gray suit. I can’t believe he’s not sweating. I’m naked and covered only in a sheet and I’m extremely warm.
And it all hits me, like a huge cock in the face. I slept with Lex. Literally and figuratively.
Four times. Four unbelievable, nerve-shattering, mind-bendingly orgasmic times. It’s no wonder I’m sore. I need an Epsom salts bath, for like six hours.
“You doing okay there?” Lex’s expression is carefully neutral.