“Oh God, did you make it sexual?”
I bite down on the tip of my finger and then say, “I did.”
She laughs into the phone. “You’re so mean. Did you slide the fork out really slowly?”
“So slowly I thought it was stuck on my lip at one point.” She laughs some more. “His eyes did not leave my mouth, so I asked him if he wanted a bite. He nodded and I gave him a piece, well, I fed him a piece from my fork.”
“Hot.”
“I know, right? It was a moment. So when we got back to the hotel, I was thinking, this might be it. I saw the way he was looking at me, and maybe he has a love affair with key lime pie for all I know, but I thought I’d test things out.”
“You pulled out the nightgown.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “I did.”
“And . . .”
“And nothing. I mean . . . nothing. I even rubbed against him a little, grazed my foot along his leg, pressed my hand to his thigh. Nothing.”
“Wow.”
“I know. Granted, we were watching The Office, but I mean, come on, it was the perfect moment. We were both lying in bed, all he had to do was roll over and I was his. My body was thrumming, aching, begging him to touch me. It was maddening. It went on for so long that I finally gave up and went to sleep. The next morning, I have no idea if he slept in the same bed or not because he was out of the room before I even woke up. We spent the day by the ocean with the group. The guys played football, I watched Cory’s muscle work under the sun, and finally when I got the chance to be alone in the room, I took care of the ache I’ve been feeling. But it wasn’t good enough. It was barely satisfying.” I let out a long sigh and say, “I don’t think I can do this much longer. The sexual tension building in me is at an all-time high. I am legit sexually frustrated.”
“Then just go bang some guy. Get it out of your system.”
“I don’t think I have that in me. And where would I bang him? In the room I share with Cory?”
“No . . . in a closet or something. Be creative. At least just have some guy stick his fingers in you. You can’t do it yourself, you need someone to remove the buildup, and if Cory isn’t man enough to do it, then I’m sure someone at the resort is.”
“I don’t think it has to do with if he’s man enough, I think . . .” I choke back the emotion building up in my throat. “I think it’s me.”
“Bullshit.” Monica’s voice booms over the phone. “I know I’m your best friend and we expect each other to pump the other up, but I am going to tell you straight-up facts. No sugarcoating it. You are beautiful. You are a goddamn catch. Yes, you have an ass and your thighs are something to grip on to, but your breasts are unfairly high and perky, and I’ve seen your nipples. What I wouldn’t give for your nipples. You’re a bombshell, Nat, and if Cory can’t see that, it’s his loss.”
“I wish it wasn’t his loss,” I say quietly.
“I know, but don’t let this stop you from having fun. So he’s not interested. Fine. Thank you, next, as Ariana would say. Move on. Your job tonight, when you’re all hanging out at the bar, is to flirt with someone else, get another guy to take you back to his room, or at least behind a palm tree. You don’t need much privacy for a classic finger fuck.”
“Have I ever told you how ladylike you are?”
“Not nearly enough.”
* * *
“Damn, Natalie,” Dottie says coming up to me. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” I say, smoothing down my red, flared dress. My tits are out for the world to see, barely contained in the tight spaghetti-strap top, my waist is on fire with how the dress gives me an hourglass shape, and the hem of the dress touches right above my knees. I’m wearing black lace underwear rather than a thong, because I know one twirl in this dress will expose my backside to the entire resort. I want to look hot, not slutty.
I spent time curling my shoulder-length hair only to brush it out and piece it with my favorite texture spray, giving me the sexy, beach-wave look. I coated on the mascara and put on my favorite red lipstick. When I looked in the mirror, I knew I’d stepped it up, and even though my goal is talk to other men tonight, I can’t help but hope Cory takes one look at me and drags me back to our room.
A girl can only dream.
Taking in Dottie’s yellow, form-fitting dress, I say, “You look hot. Jason see you yet?”
“Begged me not to leave the room. He’s still back there, hoping I change my mind.”
“Ridiculous. Does he plan on joining us?”
“Yes, but I think he’s going to pout for a little while longer.” Dottie looks over her shoulder and then whispers. “Has Cory seen you in this outfit?”
I shake my head. “No, I have no idea where he is. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m going to talk to other men tonight. That conference let out. There should be some single men milling about, someone who wants to go hang out in a closet and do some naughty things.”
“A closet?” Dottie cringes. “Have a little more class than that.”
I lean in and say, “It’s been months. I will scrunch my body into a seedy bathroom on a rickety boat if that means I find a release.” I glance over my shoulder too and say, “Trust me when I say, the tension in my room is at an all-time high. I need something to distract me tonight.”
“Really?” she asks. “That bad?”
“Awful.”
I answer just as the rest of the gang, including Jason and Cory walk up to us. All the guys are decked out in what I like to call party shirts. Button-up shirts that men only seem to wear when they’re on a tropical vacation. Palm leaves, hibiscus flowers, bright patterns, you know what I’m talking about. Jason decided to wear leopard print and his shorts match. It’s a whole ensemble and for some weird reason, he’s able to pull it off. Cory’s shirt is black with little white flowers and green leaves. It’s not as ostentatious as the other shirts, but is still bold, and of course it works for him with his black shorts.
“Ready?” Emory asks. “I’ve been craving a Shirley Temple all day.”
Knox brings her temple to his mouth where he places a small kiss and then leads the way. Carson and Milly follow behind, then Jason and Dottie, leaving me of course with Cory.
Cory, who doesn’t make eye contact with me.
Not that I put in a lot of effort to my outfit today, or that I spent a nice amount of time doing my hair and makeup, or that I made sure every last part of me was shaved and lotioned. Nope, didn’t spend any time at all . . .
Read the man, Natalie. He. Isn’t. Into. You.
Me dressed up doesn’t even rate on his radar. I know he’s way out of my league, but it would be nice to feel noticed tonight.
We reach the restaurant and take seats around the large wooden bar, but instead of sitting next to Cory, I fall to the end where Dottie is saddling up next to Jason. We order our drinks, Dottie and I opt for the beach cocktail special, while Jason surprisingly gets a beer.
Once the bartender starts making our drinks, Jason turns to me and motions up and down at my outfit. “That’s revealing. Looking to be swarmed tonight?”
“She wants to have sex in a closet,” Dottie says.
“Excuse me?” Jason’s eyes widen. “The hell you are.”
Thanks a lot, Dottie.
“I’m not going to have sex in a closet,” I reassure him. Not if I hang out with my brother the entire night. “I wouldn’t mind mingling though.”
“Oh?” Jason raises a brow. “Do I even want to know?”
“I think it’s best that you play naïve in this moment.”
“Right.” He nods. “My baby sister isn’t on the prowl for dick, she’s just looking to see if anyone wants to have a tea party with her.”
“Oh, I like that.” Dottie wiggles her eyebrows at Jason. “Want to have a tea party later tonight?”
Jason slowly looks Dottie up and down, adding an eyebrow wiggle when he meets her eyes. “You have no choice but to
drink some of my tea when we get back to our room.”
“Ew, okay, too far, Jason.”
He chuckles and picks up his beer that the bartender set down. “Any idea what you’re looking for?”
Brown hair, blue eyes, kind personality, abs for days, and smells like heaven. Any Cory lookalikes in the vicinity?
I shrug. “Not really, just someone who might catch my eye.”
“Looks like we have many men to choose from, so let’s keep our eyes peeled.”
The bartender sets our drinks down as well, and I pick mine up and take a sip. The pineapple is quite strong but it’s quickly smoothed over by a light cherry flavor and a hint of rum. Okay, I can get on board with this cocktail.
Jason is telling Dottie about how comfortable his ensemble is while I look around the bar, scanning the area. The conference has definitely let out because there are more people here than normal. A lot of the attendees like to get off the resort because they need a change of scenery, so it’s not terrible, but there seems to be a good mix and some very good-looking guys.
My gaze follows down the bar where I spot Cory, sitting closely to Carson, deep in conversation. Cory uses his hands to demonstrate something while Carson nods and I can’t help but stare at the man’s forearms, how they’re weaved and roped with muscle. Thick and corded, they’re some of the nicest forearms I’ve ever seen with just a sprinkling of hair, nothing that will startle you into thinking he’s wearing a sweater.
What really has my stomach twisting in knots though is how comfortable he seems, more comfortable than I’ve seen him in the last two days. Is it because he finally shed me and can have conversations he’s actually interested in? Because I’m not around?
Insecurities overwhelm me as I think about the other night, how I idiotically thought to try and seduce him . . . with The Office. It was an epic fail, brought on by a misunderstanding at the restaurant. I truly thought he was interested, but when we got back to our room, I was hit with reality again. He’s just a nice guy.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m going to find a guy tonight, and it will be all okay. We have one more night after this, so might as well test my flirting with someone I will most likely never see again. Vacation fling, here I come.
“I’m going to walk around,” I say to Jason and Dottie who both smile at me.
Dottie pinches my butt as I stand and says, “Knock them dead, girl.” She winks and gives me the encouragement I need.
Drink in hand, skirt flattened, I take a deep breath and start to make my way around the bar. I’ve never done this before, just walked up to a stranger and started talking without there being common ground. When at fundraising events for The Lineup, I have no problem talking to strangers, but that’s because I have something solid to talk about. It’s work; it’s easy.
This is different.
How do I approach someone without looking desperate and needy for attention?
If only there was dance music, I could twerk up to them with my full ass and give them a show. That’s one way to do it.
One unsophisticated way.
Nerves claw at my stomach, making my drink less than desirable right now. If only Monica was here, she’d be able to help me. She’d be the perfect wing-woman. I walk around the space, sticking close to the bar, trying to scout out the males in the room. There’s someone—
“What are you drinking?”
I quickly turn around to find a very attractive man with black hair slightly combed back with gel, deep brown eyes, so dark I can’t decipher between his pupil and his iris, and a linen shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. He has a lovely smile and is a few inches taller than I am. Perfect candidate.
Thank God, he approached me.
I tack on a smile and say, “Beach cocktail.” I glance at his tumbler and say, “Let me guess”—I make a show of looking him up and down—“you’re drinking a gremlin.”
“What?” He laughs and shakes his head. “Aren’t those green?”
Leaning close, I say, “I really have no idea. It was the first thing that came to my mind though.”
He swirls his drink and says, “Vodka and tonic.”
I snap my finger in disappointment. “That was my second guess. I wavered between the two.”
We’re standing near the bar, but on the other side where my group is so if I look over his shoulder, I can still see my people, just in case I need to squeeze away quickly.
The man with the beautiful eyes and long eyelashes casually leans his elbow on the bar and holds out his other arm while saying, “Nicholas, and you are?”
To be honest, I find walking up to men a hard thing to do, but Nicholas has made it quite easy. Not only did he start the conversation, but he hasn’t looked down at my chest once. That’s impressive.
I take his hand in mine and give it a quick shake. “Natalie.”
He smirks and says, “Nicholas and Natalie, it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
I push my hair behind my ear. “It does, easy to monogram things.”
“Our monogrammed throw pillows would make people jealous.”
“Easily.” I chuckle and take a sip of my drink. “So Nicholas, are you part of the conference that’s been going on?” I ask, just as my eyes shift to the side, falling briefly on Cory who has his eyes trained on me. Carson is still talking, but instead of being involved in the conversation like last time, Cory’s attention is zeroing in on my conversation. Eyes dark, brows narrowed, he looks like he’s about to chuck his beer bottle across the bar.
“Everything okay?” Nicholas asks, getting in my line of sight.
Shit.
Clearing my throat and shaking all Cory thoughts out of my head, I say, “Yes, sorry. For a second, I thought I forgot to turn off my curling iron,” I lie.
He chuckles and says, “Thank God, you didn’t. Isn’t that how Rachel Green burned down the apartment?”
My eyes widen in surprise and I correct him. “It was a straightener.”
“Ah, that’s right.”
“I’m impressed though that you brought up Friends.” He coyly takes a sip of his drink, so I ask, “What brings you to this lovely resort again?”
“Are you paying attention this time?” I smirk and nod. “Good. I’m here with the conference. I’m the owner of the business everyone is buzzing about.”
“And that business would be . . .”
“Ah, you’re not a part of the conference?”
I shake my head. “Nope, just poor vacation timing. Although, I must say, it hasn’t been bad. I think this is the first night where it truly seems packed.”
“Yeah, I think conference attendees are starting to get tired. I don’t blame them though. Talking about software for eight hours straight each day for a week is grueling.”
“Software, huh? Fascinating.”
He pokes me playfully in the side. “Why do I feel like you’re being sarcastic when you say that?”
“Maybe because I am?” I try to give him my best smile and it works, because he laughs and then sits up from the bar.
He nods toward the balcony and says, “Care to join me outside, where it’s less noisy?”
“That would be great,” I say.
He lends out his arm and I take it, feeling like a lady for the first time in a long time. Nicholas seems polished, sophisticated, and successful. Not to mention, he’s handsome and smells like an expensive man. This might have been a very, very good idea after all.
As I pass the bar, I catch Cory’s gaze one more time, his eyes tracking me over his shoulder until we pass them, and even though I shouldn’t feel guilty, not even in the slightest, there’s a tiny sliver deep within my bones that’s making me question if I’m making the right move.
Should I be over by Cory instead, trying to make awkward conversation with him? Talking about The Office, asking him if he’s going to be ready for the season when we return home, if he wants me to find him a new bagel place? Spending yet another night wishing
I was the woman Cory wanted . . . if only for a night? Wishing he’d touch me because he couldn’t keep his hands off me? Wishing he’d kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before?
No.
I mentally shake my head. We’re friends—if that—nothing more.
Nicholas is the perfect distraction, just what I need for tonight. And who knows, if I’m lucky, maybe he’ll take me back to his hotel room, because from the Rolex that’s staring back at me, I’m guessing Nicholas isn’t a broom closet guy.
Chapter Thirteen
CORY
Milly: Are you okay?
I stare at my phone, gripping it so tightly that I’m positive I might pop the front right off.
Reportedly, Potter is being paid to suck so the Bobbies have a better chance at staying Chicago’s better team.
The article I read when I got back to the hotel room was the icing on top of the shit cake tonight. But oddly, it’s not the reason I’m about to crush my phone in the palm of my hand.
No, it’s the girl with the caramel-colored hair, gorgeous smile, and perfect ass.
It’s ten o’clock, Natalie left the bar two hours ago, and has yet to let anyone know where she is. Yeah, I’ve been keeping track. Why?
Because the minute I saw her in the siren-red dress, I knew there was going to be trouble tonight . . . trouble for me.
She looked so goddamn beautiful that I felt my heart stutter stop when I caught sight of her. My breath escaped my lungs, and all I could think about was the red of her lipstick sliding over my aching cock . . . over and over and over again.
It’s why I chose to sit opposite her at the bar, why I didn’t talk to her, because I knew if I did, I would have said something I’d regret later. But funnily enough, I’m regretting not saying anything to her now, not sitting next to her, not asking if she wants to go sit in a private corner, share an appetizer with me, and just fucking talk.
There’s so much more I want to know about her, so many things I want to find out like how she takes her coffee in the morning, does she prefer deep-dish, what was her favorite childhood memory? I want to know anything and everything about her and instead of taking the opportunity to do so, I balked, hid, and now she’s off with some other guy doing who knows what. No. Not who knows what. I saw him. I saw him approach her, watched as his eyes traveled up and down her delicious body. He wasn’t the only guy; he was just the first guy who made it to her. Who stole her attention. So I know exactly what that douche would be doing with Natalie. Because she’s so fucking sexy, so fucking gorgeous.
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