Page 33 of Stick Break
And maybe an orgasm or two.
So yeah, nothing good….and everything wonderful.
But if he knew who I really was, knew about the sex tape scandal, I’m sure it would change the way he feels about me. Honestly, my ex likely ruined me for any good man out there.
I swim back to shore, scramble into my clothes dripping wet in all the wrong ways, cheeks flaming. Rip dresses beside me, both of us silent as we walk back to the cottage—yet the air between us is crackling with electricity.
“Maybe we can have s’mores and sing tomorrow night,” I suggest, voice croaky like I swallowed a frog.
He grins. “Sounds like a plan.”
He slides the key into the lock and moves to the side to wave me in. My gaze falls on the guitar. “That was so nice of you, Rip. I promise some music tomorrow.” I stretch my arm over my head. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Would you mind if I borrowed your sweatshirt again?”
“Not a problem.” He walks into the bedroom, and comes back with it. I graciously accept it and resist the urge to bring it to my nose to smell his scent on it. I guess I should have known it had been worn recently when I first pulled it on last night. Call it exhaustion.
“He jerks his thumb out. “I’m going to grab a shower. Did you want to go first?”
“No, I’m okay. You go ahead.” I walk to the sofa and shake out the blanket. “I’m going to make up the bed.”
“Charley,” he groans his voice thick with something like frustrations or…desire. “I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can.”
“It’s not right.”
“How about this. We take turns.” I don’t mean it. I have no intention of taking the bed and letting him sleep on the sofa.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Good think I do. Tonight, I’m on the sofa. No way am I putting you out two nights in a row, Rip.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, they take on a sexual meaning, and we both freeze, that charged silence stretching tight between us.
His gaze drops to my mouth. Lingers.
I swallow hard and, the sound must do something to him. He steps back like the air burned him. “Goodnight, Charley.”
He shuts the bathroom door behind him with a quiet click.
I drop onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, heart pounding.
What am I even doing?
I came here to hide, not to feel. Definitely not to want.
And yet...
As the water starts running behind that door, all I can think is?—
What if I opened it?
9
Rip
