Page 70 of Ex Marks the Spot

Until our game of strip laundry, that is.

In my defense, getting out of my dirty clothes and into a towel was purely about logistics because it made no sense to put clean clothes on when I hadn’t showered yet. I didn’t expect her to look at me like I was her next meal, and I damn sure didn’t expect her to throw gasoline on the fire.

Should I have waited to jack off until it was my turn in the bathroom? Yes, except I was powerless against the defiant little smirk she unleashed as she took off her shirt. Then I started thinking about whethershewas in the bathroom touching herself, and jacking off became a need rather than a want.

I was halfway to my release when she came back into the bedroom, but there was no point in trying to cover up since we both knew what I was doing. In fact, mutual masturbation used to be one of our favorite methods of foreplay.

And then she climbed on my bed and came on my cock and I spent the rest of the night worshipping her body in all the ways I’ve fantasized about since the race started. Not being able to touch her for the next who knows how many hours is going to be hell.

“Hey guys,” Hartley says to Treva, Boyd, Haylee, and Kadeeja, who are sitting in a row of chairs near the window. We sit across from them, and I put a chair between me and Hartley for good measure.

The girls greet us with smiles and hellos, but Boyd’s is more of a flat grunt than an actual word.

Hartley looks to Treva, who waves a dismissive hand at her teammate. “Don’t mind him. He’s grumpy because he didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m not grumpy because I didn’t sleep well,” he interjects with a pointed finger before recrossing his arms. “I’m grumpy because of why I didn’t sleep well.”

“What happened?” Hartley asks.

Fighting to keep a straight face, Treva says, “Our neighbors kept him awake.”

“Were they fighting?”

Kadeeja clamps her lips between her teeth and shakes her head while Haylee gives him a conciliatory pat on the knee.

“Apparently, poor Boyd couldn’t sleep because the people in the room next to him were up all night getting it on.”

I know for a fact that Hartley and I didn’t see anyone from the race in the lobby, elevator, or hallway when we were going to and from our room so there’s no possible chance that Boyd knows it was us. Or maybe it wasn’t, and two couples were having an all-night sex fest?

“Four times.Four times!” he says, hands flailing out and falling to his lap with a loud slap. “They’ll probably have to pay for the headboard.”

Okay, it could’ve been us. If so, it was technically five times—once was in the shower—and the headboard was intact when we left.

“And that wasn’t even the worst part,” he continues. “I think they were into some dom-sub stuff because I kept hearing her yell, ‘Lord.’ It was so annoying.”

Yeah, that was definitely us, except that Hartley was screamingCourt, notLord. I steal a quick glance to gauge her reaction and relax when I see she’s listening with amusement rather than embarrassment.

“WellIslept like a log, but someone here”—Treva pokes Boyd in the shoulder, eliciting another grunt from her teammate—“was too stubborn to take melatonin and use my essential oils. Maybe next time he’ll listen.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Kadeeja says wistfully. “I mean, spending the whole night with someone who has moves and stamina like that? We should all be so lucky.” She fans herself with her hand for effect.

“For real. Maybe they were on their honeymoon,” Haylee adds, waggling her brows.

Still scowling, Boyd crosses his arms again. “Well whoever they were, they should tone it down or pass out some earplugs.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get any sleep, Boyd, but I have to admit I’m with Kadeeja on this one,” Hartley says. “That sounds like an amazing way to spend the night.”

I hide my laugh behind a cough while they exchange high fives because only Hartley could fess up without actually fessing up.

“Also, you’re forgetting the very best part about today,” she continues.

“You mean besides not having to listen to Mr. and Mrs. Headboard anymore?”

“Yes, besides that,” she playfully huffs. “Where are we going?”

Hartley’s question cues Boyd’s first smile of the day. He loosens his arms and sits up a little. “Egypt.”

“Cairo freakin’ Egypt,” she says, tapping his knee to emphasize each word. “And you can borrow my eye mask and sleep on the plane.”

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