As I walk out, I hear her say, “Go get her, tiger!”
Chapter 12
No other cocks need apply.
PoppinganothercherryStarburstinto my mouth, I read over the romantic scene I’m working on. I’ve eaten at least a pound of my favorite candies over the past day. I really should get on some kind of workout program, but I don’t want to.
The result of me holing up in my cottage for the past twenty-something hours produced eleven chapters. Damn good ones too. My argument with Reno sparked something in my brain, and I’ve been a writing machine since I booted him out.
Drawing on the anger and disappointment, I pounded out some of the best emotional scenes I’d ever written. I’m still polishing this one, but I sent the others to Holly and Eden a few hours ago.
A twinge jabs my lower back, and I decide I’m done for a little while. Standing from the desk chair in the corner of my bedroom, I stretch my hands above my head, lengthening my spine. It feels amazing after sitting for so long.
I’m supposed to go over to Chris and Inge’s cabin at nine for game night or whatever they have planned, but it’s only five now. I have plenty of time to take a walk down to the beach and then maybe grab a bite to eat.
A frisson of guilt pokes me in the gut. Someone’s been sending food to my room, and I’m pretty sure it’s Reno, even though I ditched him for dinner last night.
Stop it, Juliette. You have no reason to feel guilty. Reno Swain is a judgmental asshole who doesn’t deserve your time.That little fact hasn’t stopped me from replaying his lips on mine in an unending loop. Ipractically made a damn mental movie trailer out of our time on top of the hill.
After using the restroom, I search for my sandals. The right one is beside the back door, but the left one seems to have grown legs and walked away. Mumbling curses, I drop to my knees and search the floor, finally locating it beneath the bed.
With both feet now shod, I go to the back door and pause with my hand on the button when I hear water running.Is that the toilet?I traipse back to the bathroom and find that the toilet is fine and the noise seems to be coming from outside.
Peeping through the blinds, I have a perfect view of cottage five’s back porch. More specifically, the outdoor shower. And even more specifically,Reno Swainin said shower.
He’s wearing nothing but navy and white swim trunks, and his eyes are closed, head tilted back as he scrubs at his hair. While I watch like a stalkery little stalker, he rubs his hands over his ripped torso. The man is pure beefcake, with broad shoulders and a chest a woman could curl up on and take a catnap.
His chest has a bit of hair, which tapers down into the happiest little happy trail ever. I like hair on a man. Not like a bear on Rogaine, but I find a nice smattering quite masculine.
My eyes drop to those abs that look like they’ve been carved of tan granite. Sharp lines demarcate each muscle so clearly you can count them. So I do. There are eight of them. Eight!
I’m like the Count on Sesame Street.Vun muscle I’d like to lick syrup from. Twooo muscles I’d like to lick syrup from. Threeee—
Before I can get any farther, he drops his swim trunks.
And there’s his penis. Yep. Right there. And the damn thing deserves its own zip code. It’s not erect, but I can still see that his length and girth are impressive.
Forget all the dicks in myInspirational Cocksfolder. Reno Swainismy folder now. The whole damn thing. No other cocks need apply.
He rotates slowly, giving me a view of a muscular, creamy ass.And it’s not the only thing getting creamy, my very filthy mind thinks as I squeeze my thighs together.
The show is over way too quickly, and I only get one more brief glance of his,ahem,frontal assets before he’s wrapping a towel around his waist, covering what’s hidden between those tan lines on his abdomen and upper thighs.
And can we just talk about the thighs for a second? I remove my fingers and let the gap close in the blinds, but I can still picture those thick quads and hammies that bunched beneath that golden skin as he turned in the spray of the shower. The man could crack my skull with his brawny upper legs, and I was surprisingly okay with that. I mean, who needs a skull when my brain is already mush?
No, Juli. You are mad at him, remember?
Yes, but maybe we could duct tape his mouth to shut him the hell up while we…
Absolutely not. He’s a jerk.
Sighing, I exit cottage four without a backward glance at cottage five—and the penis and thighs that currently reside there.
When I return from my walk, I get a text notification from Holly.
Holly: Just read the latest. Who hurt you, babe?
I burst into laughter as I unlock my back door and enter my bedroom. Another message comes in before I can reply.
