Page 81 of Hot Mess Express
He looks at me across the room. “Huh? Oh, I wasn’t—”
“You’ll probably get—what was it?—herpesor whatever.”
He stops by the tiny table near the front window and smirks. “It was the first thing that flew outta my mouth in that restroom. I didn’t mean—”
“Thank you, by the way.” I turn when he doesn’t respond. “I mean … for not fucking off. For giving me a chance. Being patient with my stupid ass. Just … thanks.”
After a minute to take that in, I watch his eyes soften. Then he slowly crosses the room, very slowly, with his eyes still on me and looking full of concern. Or something that seems like concern. It’s anyone’s guess what’s actually on his mind right now. I hope he isn’t regretting following me to this sketchy place.
He stops in front of me, then lifts a hand to brush some hair off my forehead. His hand stays by my ear, cradling the side of my face. I resist an urge to knead my cheek softly into his palm like a cat surrendering to a petting.
He seems to notice, a smile crawling over his lips. “Can I … say something crazy?”
I look at him. “Uh, sure.”
“I like that we’re finally alone.”
My eyes drop to his chest again.
He puts a finger under my chin and lifts my gaze back to him. “You don’t have to be nervous, Anthony. Nothing’s gonna happen in this room that you don’t want to happen. We can just kick back and do nothing if you want.”
“Do I look like I wanna kick back and do nothing?” I swipe his finger out from under my chin. “Did that guy on the bathroom counter back at the club look like he wanted to kick back and do nothing? Why do you think I …” I step back from him with a laugh. “Why d’you think I brought us back here? To this cheap-ass room? To watch late-night talk shows and file our nails?”
He chuckles. “You got quite a lip on you.”
I swallow. “Is it too much? Sorry.” I step back and shake out my hands like they’re wet. “I’m a little worked up. Antsy. Ants in my pants. Ants everywhere.”
“It’s alright.”
“You don’t gotta coddle me, though.” I move away from him over to the edge of the bed where I’d thrown my backpack before leaving for the club with Juni. So much random shit I stuffedinto it before we left the apartment. I even brought condoms. Why did I bring condoms? Did I actually believe this might happen?
Staring down at that backpack, I realize I’m out of thoughts—and words too, apparently, seeing as I’ve gone totally quiet. I listen as Bridger takes a breath, then slowly draws up behind me. When I feel his cool, soft lips touch the back of my neck, my eyes roll up, and I fucking melt. He kisses me a few times, then places his hands on my shoulders. He starts to gently massage me.
I notice I’m breathing funny. “Bridger …”
His reply is a whisper in my ear. “Yeah?”
“I … I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“It’s alright.”
“I’ve never … I don’t know. I just …”
He kisses my neck again. I keep wanting to just collapse into a puddle in his arms every time he does that.
“I just … want to feel good,” I finish. “That’s all.”
“Feel good?” Another kiss. “That’s all?” Another.
“Y-Yeah.”
His fingers graze down my sides to the bottom of my shirt, where they slide underneath again. His cool fingertips brush along my bare skin, sending shivers racing all over me.
“You’re smoother than I expected,” he whispers.
Each of his words in my ear makes me fucking crazy. “What’d you expect?”
“No idea. Do you trim?”
