A lot older.
If I start really seeing her like the woman she is, then maybe…
“Alright.” Banks rises off the mattress. “I don’t want to push you one way or the other. From here on out, I’m shutting up about it.”
I let out a short laugh. “Really?” My smile dies. I’ve tried to get Banks to shut up about it for so long. My stomach cramps suddenly, not liking this road.
“Really,” he says seriously. “You figure it out.”
I push my hair back, but strands fall forward over my forehead. But I need your help. I struggle with those words. All this time, I just thought Banks was annoying me on purpose about my relationship with Sulli. Being a pest like the rest of SFO. It’s the one sore spot they know they can touch with a wisecrack and a laugh.
Now I think he’s been helping me. Because he knows me too well, and I can’t sort through my friendship with Sulli without him.
I nod to my friend, thankful for him, for how much he’s already done for me.
Banks reaches a hand out.
I grab hold, standing up, and our eyes just impulsively go to the bathroom. Shadows play through the ajar door, and I can almost see the outline of her body against the shower curtain. A glimpse, then gone.
My heart rate goes haywire.
“I’m going to shut the door for her,” I tell him.
He nods, unfurling the sleeping mats.
And I head to the bathroom. Every footstep is a pound in my pulse.
8
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
“Hey, Sulli,” Akara calls from outside the motel bathroom. His footsteps stop near the door.
My joints stiffen, a disposable razor frozen in my hand. The grimy shower curtain conceals me from him. Steam cocooning me, I’ve been avoiding the sheets of scalding water that pound the tub at my feet. For five minutes, I tried adjusting the temperature with no success.
It’s still boil-my-fucking-skin-off hot.
Now everything suddenly feels catastrophically hotter. “Yeah?” I call back.
“I’m just closing this door.”
My stomach tanks.
What were you expecting, Sullivan?
Something hotter, fucking clearly.
“K,” I say, and I peek my head out of the shower curtain. But I’m too late to catch his expression. He shuts the door. Enclosing me in privacy that I’m surprised to be bummed about.
I like my privacy.
But lately, it’s been kind of lonely.
I shake the thoughts away.
Back to shaving. I forgot to pack a new razor, and the one I left in my toiletry kit is dull and sucks. My body hair grows back daily, especially on my legs and armpits, but sometimes I say, fuck this and don’t shave every single day.
I haven’t always taken the carefree route.
But I guess as I grow older, I just care less what people think of me. Sometimes I wish I could transport back to seventh grade and tell myself, “Don’t be sad if you’re teased for having hairy arms. It’s just hair, and kids are fucking cruel.”
With a swipe of the razor down my calf, I run my palm over my skin. Ugh, my legs still feel prickly.
“Fuck this,” I mutter and ditch the razor. About the same time I throw it beside my body wash, I notice a bug crawling on the tiles near my shoulder.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” I gasp and jerk into the scalding water. “Cum—fuck.” I wince at the stinging heat and edge backwards, but my wide eyes are on the black curled tail of a scorpion.
I hate scorpions.
My little sister, however, loves them. Winona adores every living, breathing creature—especially the amphibians. Tadpoles are her jam. Even though this is not a frog, my sisterly love surpasses my instincts. So I don’t wash a scorpion down the tub drain.
You’re an Olympian, Sullivan.
You can save a little ugly scorpion.
My hair wet on my collarbones, I whip open the shower curtain. Assessing. Okay, so a skinny window is slightly ajar above the sink. Big enough for the scorpion to meet freedom and nature. I can usher it there with…the shampoo bottle!
Grabbing my shampoo, I stand on the edge of the tub and create good bodily distance from this tiny, poisonous beast. It better not prefer the wonderful amenities of a motel bathroom. Complete with yellow-stained tiles and some type of mold growing out of the air vents.
I try to traffic control the scorpion, nudging him ever so slightly along the tile wall. “Come on, little guy. This way.”
He jumps!
What the fuck—I jerk back and grab hold of the shower curtain rod for balance.
The metal rod breaks off with barely any force.
I let go fast, catching my balance in a stance, but the rod and curtain tumble to the fucking floor with the loudest, most volatile crash.
“Sulli?!” Akara’s panicked shout sends shockwaves down my body—my really, really naked body. Footsteps sound just as quickly, and the bathroom door thrashes open.
I solidify. Standing tall and still naked on the edge of the tub.
Akara skids to a halt, eyes on…my eyes, then the window.
Banks slides into the bathroom behind him, realizes I’m in my birthday suit with a short glimpse, and then also eyes the window. “You alright?” he asks me, but I can’t read either of them beyond their concern.
Bodyguards.
They’re my fucking bodyguards, and of course they were worried about the window. They’re being professional—I shouldn’t be this disappointed, but fuck, they didn’t even inhale like wow, that’s a babe right there.
I’m starting to feel like the ugly little beast in their eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Without stepping off the tub, I snatch my towel off the shut toilet lid and hold it up to my chest. “It’s secure. No one was trying to kidnap me.”
Banks picks up the rod and curtain, setting both in the corner. Akara rechecks the window.
“I was just dealing with an arachnid intruder. A scorpion is in here somewhere.” I step down—fuckfuckfuck, my foot slips on the slick tile.
With the shower still on, mist wets the floor without a curtain to block the spray, and I go down.
“Sulli.” Akara reaches out and pulls me further from the tub. So my head won’t meet the edge.
But his feet slide out from under him too.
Now we both go down. My ass hits the ground hard. Butt bone on fire, and the pain is dulled by two realizations.
I dropped my towel.
And Akara falls on top of me.
His hands lie flat on either side of my arms. His biceps flexed, tattoo peeking from his black tank—really though, he’s never been this close to my bare body. My boobs. My legs are practically spread around him. Open for him.
Oh…
Fuck.
My cheeks roast, but not from embarrassment. His body is hard muscle, and the weight of him on me is dizzying. My pulse drops between my legs.
His eyes search mine. “Are you hurt?” He’s more worried than aroused. Hell, all worried. No arousal.
We’re just friends.
It’s painfully clear that I’m as attractive to him as the scorpion on the ground, or tile—or wherever the fuck he catapulted to.
“I’m fine,” I say again. “Just a bruised butt.” And ego.
Mention of my ass doesn’t change his expression. He’s not even looking at my lips. I’ve glanced at his kissable lips at least three fucking times now.
Suddenly, a sharp pain pinches my foot. “Ow, fuck,” I wince between my teeth and jerk. “The scorpion.” That little asshole is still running around here.
Akara stands up quickly, avoiding looking at me the entire time. He makes a concerted effort to stare at the wall.
I’m so over it.
Fuck the towel. I leave it behind as I rise to my feet. One of which throbs from the sting.
Banks’ boot lands hard on the tile, his back turned to me. “Got ‘em.”
<
br /> “Was trying to avoid that,” I say with a shrug. “My little sister says it’s cruel to kill things that are weaker than you.”
“She’d hate me then,” Banks says, then glances at me. “Fuck—” He turns around quickly. “You’re—”
“Naked.” I rest my hands on my hips, done running away, and I swear, right before Banks drops his head, I catch sight of his rising smile.
Akara is doing an A+ job of avoiding. “You need a new towel, Sul?”
“No.” I shrug. “We’re pals, right? Friendly friends. I’m sure you two have seen each other’s cocks at some point.”
They share a look.
“We have,” Akara answers first.
“So what does it even matter if I’m naked around you guys?” I wouldn’t strip naked in front of just anyone. Even though they’re not attracted to me, I’ll always trust them, and I’m done feeling like the little girl on the outskirts.
I can play with the older guys.
I’m twenty-fucking-one.
With another short, silent exchange through their eyes, they rotate fully to face me. Akara’s gaze drips down my body, but I can’t read his expression at all.
“Just friends, right, string bean?” Akara asks, his chest rising and falling more frequently.
“Right.”
Shower water still splashes at me, but I feel hot from the inside-out.
I look to Banks.
He has his knuckles to his lips. Is he smiling? “Where’d it sting you?”
“My foot—”
Akara’s cellphone cuts me off. It rings from the bedroom. “I have to take that. Banks, text Farrow about the scorpion sting.” He rushes out like a lifeline called and shuts the door behind him.
His quickness shouldn’t hurt so badly, but I end up walking backwards in a daze until my ass hits the sink.
Banks stays a few feet away, pulling his phone from his jean’s pocket.
When our eyes meet, I ask seriously, “Does my nakedness bother you?”
“No.” His mouth curves up, a shadow of a smile returning. “I’m not exactly a Virgin Mary—”
“Virgin jokes,” I let out a weak laugh.
“Didn’t mean it like that,” Banks says softly. “For what it’s worth, I’m not uncomfortable by much. I could strip and stand here buck-ass naked without batting an eye.”
I skim his six-seven build. “Then why don’t you?” I say like a challenge. “We’re just a bunch of animals in the wilderness. Clothes aren’t necessary to our fucking survival right now, so why even wear them? Right?”
He cocks his head, his smile more and more attractive. It’s soft, almost…provocative. “You sure, mermaid?”
Steam billows between us, my breath staggered in real want, and I nod, “I’m sure—but, fuck, only if you really want to. I don’t want to pressure you or…”
He’s already gripping the back of his shirt. He pulls the white tee over his head. Dog tags lie flat against his firm chest. And his fingers unbutton his jeans. Easily dropping them, his navy boxer-briefs mold his package, and he rolls the elastic down. Freeing his length.
As he steps out of his boxer-briefs, I try to be casual about his naked form.
Like he’s been about mine.
And I zone in on a tattoo I’ve never seen before. Across his upper-thigh, the ink looks like bleeding marker, so blown-out I barely recognize the shape of Roman numerals.
My eyes skate across his skin. Tiny scars mar his waist, his legs, and chest. Like the small ones I’ve seen on his hands before. All look different from the shapes and sizes, probably from different places and times in his life.
I feel his casual gaze on me.
And I’m not nervous or shy or even fucking timid. If bodies are maps to our hearts…to our souls, I’ve been waiting for someone to travel towards mine.
But fuck, I could have it all wrong, I guess.
I’m not a student of philosophy like Moffy or brilliant like Jane. Bodies could just be vessels to our memories. Not maps.
What then?
I’d still want him to explore me.
I inhale.
His chest rises. Breathing each other in from a distance, my skin feels hot. He’s a man my body responds to—like pheromones are circling pungently around us with the steam.
I throb, clenching inside for something I’ve never had. Hardness. Filling me. Okay, slow down, Sullivan. And then I take a really good look at his cock, and my lips part in a heady breath.
He’s aroused.
I’ve never seen an erection up-close and personal, but I’ve watched my fair share of porn. His shaft stands at hard attention, and he’s long, big. Bigger than my mind even constructed.
Realizing I’m staring, I snap my eyes up to his.
He’s unbothered, like he said he’d be. Still, I can’t stop glancing from his erection to his eyes. And his hardness grows right before me. His face practically says, yeah, I’m into you.
“Nice dick,” I breathe.
He steps closer. “Nice tits.” His gaze slow-burns itself down my boobs, nipples perked. Eyes back on each other, we share a smile among something invigorating.
I feel high.
It’s not the steam.
It’s not even really being naked.
It’s him.
How he’s making me feel in this moment. Banks stares at me like I’m a woman. A muscular, strong, powerful, and sexy woman.
Still up against the sink, I watch him unfurl his fist. His phone. He’s been clutching his phone. “I’m gonna text Farrow. How bad does it hurt?”
The sting.
I forgot about it. “Not that bad.”
For a second, I think he’s about to leave to text Farrow. Please don’t leave me.
My heart skips.
9
BANKS MORETTI
Sulli looks panicked. Like I’m about to abandon her at a vulnerable time. Akara has had to bail on her more than once since he created his own security firm, but he’s never really abandoned her.
Must just be a fear of hers. Hand-in-hand with being alone.
But I’d never leave her right now. We’re both naked in a motel bathroom. Not to shower. Not to fuck. It’s the strangest, most alluring moment I’ve ever had with a woman.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her softly.
She nods, easing.
I text Farrow: How do I treat a scorpion sting? Along with the text, I snap a pic of the squished motherfucker.
Sulli grips the edge of the sink counter with one hand, her eyes still on my hard cock.
My muscles flex in response. More blood pooling south. Christ, I want to paint a portrait of Sulli with my gaze, but I should focus on her wound first.
I’m about a meter away from her and a line I shouldn’t be crossing. For Akara’s sake. Though—what the fuck am I stalling for? There’s a good chance he’s never going to see Sulli the way I see her.
Edging closer, I toss Sulli a towel. “Just so I can concentrate on first-aid.”
Her lips rise while she wraps the towel around her body. Holding the two ends together at her breasts.
An inch away, I tower above Sulli.
She drinks me in, and I slowly lower to one knee, then the other. “Can I see your foot?”
“Huh?” Her breath is shallow.
“Your foot, mermaid,” I say into a soft smile. “You got stung by that pointy shitbag.”
She smiles. “Shitbag”—she lifts her foot for me—“that’s a good one.”
I take her sole in my hand.
She doesn’t try to flatten her towel. The fabric spreads open more and more. By the way she’s soaking in our positions, she knows I’m at a perfect height to push aside her towel and kiss between her legs.
What lies beneath that towel is my undoing.
Don’t I know it.
Legs for days, leading to her unshaven pussy, all brawn in her limbs—in her slender hips that travel up to small boobs and broad shoulders
…I can’t even blink back the image. Every inch of her is driving me crazy.
My muscles burn, and I focus on the mark on her foot. The skin is a bit swollen around the sting.
“It really doesn’t hurt?” I ask.
“Not right now.” Her raspy response pumps more yearning in me. Not even just to kiss her. Life’s momentary pleasures, I know them well. I’m not looking for just a moment—and for once in my life, can’t I have more?
Good grief, I’m yearning for something other than a cigarette these days—that alone is a damn miracle.
I gently set her foot down. Steam whirling between us, I’m on my knees in front of Sullivan Meadows.
She’s still staring at my length.
It takes everything in me to concentrate on her foot.
My phone pings.
Treat the swelling with ice or a cold washcloth. If any other symptoms come up, take her to the hospital. – Farrow
Any other symptoms. Hopefully it wasn’t a venomous shitbag.
“What’s the verdict?” Sulli wonders.
“Your foot has to fucking go.” I stand up. “Good thing you can grow a mermaid tail or else I’m sure you’d miss your toes.”
Sulli stays completely still, our eyes diving into each other while I reach for the washcloth beside her hand.
She takes a short breath. “Akara always says he doesn’t believe in mermaids, but one time he told me that if they did exist, they’d be those ugly creatures in the sea that eat people.”
Akara fuckin’ Kitsuwon.
He’s unconsciously cock-blocking me. He’s been doing it to men interested in Sulli for all her adult-life.
I let out a half-hearted laugh that verges on an agonized groan. “He would say that.” Turning on the faucet behind her, I let cold water run over the washcloth. “But just so we’re clear, Sulli, in my world, mermaids are gorgeous, out-of-this-world stunners.”
She inhales sharply, then shakes her head once like she almost can’t believe it.
I leave the washcloth in the sink and grip the porcelain on either side of her athletic frame. “I think you’re gorgeous, Sulli.” I want to clutch her face. To breathe these words between her lips like eternal air. “A beauty. A smokeshow. The hottest thing from here to the rising sun.”
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