Page 108 of The Bridges I've Burned

“But now, look at you,” I said, my gaze raking over his body. All that bare skin.

My body came alive instantly.

“Yes, look at me.” His voice was pure sex as he slowly put his guitar down next to the bed, moving toward me with purpose and a smoldering gaze.

We didn’t leave the bed for the rest of the day.

Marin

Do I need to come over there and drop off provisions? Food? Gatorade? Condoms? It’s been two days!

me

We actually ran out of condoms yesterday.

Marin

What? You know how babies are made, right?

me

The only one of us who is flighty about contraceptives is you. I’ve had an IUD since college.

Marin

Rude. (But true.)

me

We had “the talk.” We’re both clean.

That had been an awkward conversation.

No one liked talking about their previous…exploits.

But I’d learned a long time ago that avoiding it was worse than just suffering through the uncomfortable exchange.

My part of the conversation was fairly short. My string of bad dates meant the only action I’d seen lately was the battery-operated kind. His required a bit more explanation, but the gist was, he was a single but highly responsible guy while traveling with a band on tour.

I’d tried not to dwell on that too much.

I sat up in bed, the sound of the shower running as the late afternoon sun streamed through the window.

I’d woken up to the soft melody of his guitar again today. I had firmly decided it was the best way to start the morning until I fell back asleep and woke up an hour later with his face between my thighs.

My skin still burned from the stubble on his chin.

I grinned, feeling my cheeks heat as I thought of something to text back to Marin, but as I was holding my phone, I spotted his guitar in the corner.

Seeing him play in bed was damn near pornographic.

Seeing him in concert…

I quickly looked over my shoulder, double-checking that the shower was still running. I didn’t know why, but I suddenly felt embarrassed as I typed his name in the search bar of the internet browser.

My stomach twitched with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

Is this considered stalking?

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