After cleaning smears of chocolate off his teeth with his tongue, he nudges his head to the giant bed in the middle of the room. “Go on, try it out. Let’s see what you think.”
“Are the sheets clean?”
Colby cocks his brow. “Yes. No one has slept in this bed but me.”
“Once again, are the sheets clean?”
His growl is more sexy than threatening. “Prim…”
“Fine! I’m going.”
After toeing off slippers no woman under the age of sixty should wear, I shimmy my pants down my thighs then climb onto the mattress. Yes, I said climb as it’s so high off the floor, I’m afraid I might get altitude sickness.
“If you hadn’t ruined my cell phone, I bet I could have gotten reception up here.”
It takes Colby a good three seconds to remove his eyes from my thighs, and even then, the heat of his gaze is felt for many more. From the way he’s eyeing me, anyone would swear he hadn’t seen me naked only hours ago. It’s that knowledge that saw me stripping out of my pants without a worry in the world. He’s seen me at my worst, so why act coy about being without pants?
“I’ll replace your phone when we go to town tomorrow, then you can test the theory.”
My brows spike as quickly as my heart rate. “We’re going to town tomorrow?”
Colby joins me on the mattress to remove my glasses like I’m incapable of doing something I’ve done since I was eight. It does stupid things to my insides, but I’m too woozy to sit down and decipher what it means. “Yes. While the group goes skydiving, I thought we could do a run for supplies.” He locks his dazzling baby blues with me. “If you’re up for it.”
“Sounds good, but are you sure you don’t want to go skydiving? I can get supplies by myself. I’m a big girl who knows how to take care of herself.” When his eyes lock with the split in my head, I screw up my nose. “That wasn’t my fault. Lumberjack Bill has more brawn than brains.”
“Terry?”
I sink into the super-soft pillows, being extra attentive not to bump the part of my head I can no longer feel. “Who’s Terry?”
Colby waits for me to finish yawning before explaining that the man I nicknamed Lumberjack Bill is Terry Fousser, a big-time banker who’s worth millions of dollars. “He feels so guilty about what happened, he offered to reimburse you for this trip.”
“Did you tell him no?”
A sprinkling of blond hairs fall into his eyes when he shakes his head. “I told him I’d wait and see what you want to do first.”
I roll over so I can spoon the softest pillows I’ve ever laid my head on. They smell scrumptious too. Manly and pure—much like their owner. “I don’t want to be reimbursed.”
The smell I’m sucking in like the first day of spring amplifies when Colby adjusts the pillows around me, so I’m cocooned like a newborn baby sleeping on its parents’ bed. Once he has everything in order, he lies opposite me. “Why wouldn’t you accept his offer, Prim? You haven’t experienced anything you paid for. You didn’t hike, you only had one run down the rapids, and now you’re out for the rest of the week. Why wouldn’t you want to be compensated for that?”
“Because despite all of that, I’ve lived more the past two days than I have the previous thirty years.” His smile is gorgeous, but I can barely see it through my sagging eyelids and poor eyesight. “Tell Terry I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay. I’m happy just the way I am…” I’m out cold before my reply completely leaves my mouth.
Chapter 22
Colby
When a knock sounds on my bedroom door, I yank my hand away from Jamie’s cheek like I’m not a creep confirming the softness of her skin while she sleeps. Jamie is beautiful as she is, but when she’s dozing, the term takes on a whole new meaning. With it being late in the day, the low-hanging sun sends streaks of orange over her face, amplifying the redness the tip of her nose got when she almost froze to death. She’s huddled in the fetal position, so the shirt she slipped on when Nixon moved her from the kitchen to the privacy of his EMT truck is riding high on her luscious thighs, and she’s snoring.
Snoring should never be classed as adorable, but like many things I’m discovering about Jamie, she’s not close to ordinary. Her snores are soft and cute and arrive with the occasional snort, which makes them even more adorable. I stayed with her because I thought her sleep would be restless. She went through quite the ordeal today, yet she sleeps as if she has the world at her feet. If that doesn’t show her fighting spirit, I don’t know what will.
After scampering off the bed as quietly as I can, I twist to face the door Tyrone’s standing outside of. His arms are folded in front of his chest, but the confused crinkle popped between his brows reveals he isn’t angry. He’s as shocked now as he was when I said I’d stay with Jamie instead of attending rock climbing as scheduled.
Usually, I never volunteer to stand-down from adrenaline-packed activities. With Tyrone’s interests in Jamie as obvious as the sun hanging in the sky, I expected him to put up more of a protest to my request, so you can imagine my surprise when he merely agreed with a head bob before loading our clients into the van as if Jamie’s hacked clothes weren’t tangled around their feet.
“How is she?” His voice is thicker than usual, more controlled.
“Good. Nixon gave her some strong pain meds. She’s been out for a few hours.” I join him in the hall. “How was the rock climbing? Any incidents?”
He shakes his head. “Kendall got a grazed knee, but other than that, we’re in the clear.” He should sound happy, but he doesn’t. I think I know why.
“What happened to Jamie wasn’t your fault.”
Air whizzes out of his nostrils. “She was in my rig, Colby. That makes her my responsibility.”
“She got a blade to the head. You activated the safety measures as you were taught. How is it your fault?”
“I should have dove into the water.”
I backhand his chest, my head shaking. “I only went in because I had experienced guides on my crew. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have.” That’s a lie, but if it makes him feel better, I’ll run with it. “Do you know what Jamie said before she went to sleep?” I wait for his worldly eyes to drift to mine before saying, “That this is the most alive she’s ever felt. That’s why we do this, Ty. It’s not to get rich or to feed off the hype. It’s for responses like that.” I hook my thumb to Jamie, who’s still resting. “She doesn’t blame you for what happened. Heck, she doesn’t even blame Terry, so you sure as fuck shouldn’t be feeling guilty.”
When his chest rises, revealing I’m getting through to him, I slather more cream onto my ego-inflating pie. “If you want to make it up to her, keep her smiling like you did before she went for a swim.”
I don’t know why, but that was hard for me to say. Probably because I don’t want to hand that task to Tyrone, I want to make Jamie smile. Mrs. Palencia spent more of our dance class checking the firmness of my butt-cheeks than teaching me how to dance, but those nights boosted me with more adrenaline than any jump I’ve had since. Inside those walls with Jamie, I was just me, Colby McGregor. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone or rewrite the stars. I was the closet Sci-Fi geek who had a crush on a taken dorky insurance assessor.
My heart must have fucked-up notions on what it thinks is romance. The only other girl I’ve ever crushed on was also taken. I like keeping things interesting, but this is messed up, even for me. But, even if you were to exclude those heinous facts I just disclosed, I’m the one who snuffed the life in Jamie’s eyes, so shouldn’t I be the one responsible for returning it? I’ve taken some steps this afternoon to commence that process, but I’ve got many more to take. While I’m being honest, I’ll also admit, she scared me today. So much so, the hang-ups I’ve had about our friendship don’t seem as perverse. She’s no longer taken, but even if she were, why can’t we be friends?
Because you can’t fuck your friends, doofus, and you’ve had too many improper thoughts abou
t her to pretend you don’t find her attractive.
I grow worried Tyrone is a mind reader when he says, “I will if you will.” He shifts on his feet to face me, the crinkle between his brow weakening its cinch. “And before you give me some bullshit excuse that you don’t do attachments and yadda yadda yadda, remember I saw your face when she was pulled out of the safety boat. Attachments have already occurred, so you may as well run with it. If you don’t, I will.”
“Like fuck you will.”
He slaps my shoulder three times like I didn’t speak a word. “Dinner will be ready in around an hour. Scrub up and join us… both of you. I’m sure you can fit more than one person in your shower if you’re worried you’ll be short on time.”
Tyrone hits me with a playful wink before pivoting on his heels and stalking down the hall. I wait for him to disappear into thin air before returning to Jamie’s bedside. She’s sleeping peacefully with her hair fanned across my pillow. Because she went for a swim, it’s back to its usual kinky self. I like her hair au naturel. It’s as wild as the woman she tries to hide with a professional demeanor and ugly-ass glasses.
While staring at her beautiful face, I summon images of hairy armpits, festering pimples, and teeth that haven’t seen a toothbrush in a decade. The visuals which usually make my stomach recoil don’t work this time around. I’m still having improper thoughts about a woman I swore I’d never be more than friends with. If that isn’t bad enough, I’m as hard as a pensioner who took an entire prescription of Viagra instead of just one.
After leaving Jamie a note to say I’m in the bathroom if she needs me, I head to that so-called bathroom to drown my inappropriate thoughts down the drain. I could shower in one of the guest bathrooms, but since they’re on the other side of the cabin, and I want to be within earshot of Jamie in case she suddenly clues on to the fact she almost died today, I’d prefer to use my own.
I undress and throw my clothes into the hamper before entering the shower. The water hasn’t had time to heat, but it’s better this way. Maybe the chill will subdue the python between my legs long enough I can shower without poking my eye out.
As I scrub the funk from my skin, I ignore the object that appears to have its own blood source separate from my body. It throbs with want while sending needy messages to my brain. Those statistics that claim men think about sex almost one hundred percent of the time are true—except now, it’s one hundred percent on my mind. It hammers into me on repeat, not giving in until my soapy hand is wrapped around my shaft, and I’m imagining the woman in my bed is no longer sleeping. She’s in the shower with me, wearing nothing but a smile. She rakes her teeth over her lower lip when she realizes what I’m doing, liking the thought of me jacking off thinking about her.
I stroke my cock faster, giving her the show she deserves. No, the show she needs. She wants this as much as me. That’s why her nipples are always strained against her shirt when I’m around. Why her lavender scent is stronger. She wants to fuck me as much as I want to bang Brad out of her brains, but she also knows that isn’t something friends do. Friends don’t kiss, touch, and fondle each other, and friends most certainly don’t fuck.
Lucky for me, this is just a fantasy. There are no rules when you’re dreaming, no barriers, no obstacles, and no stupid family shit that dictates every fucking step I take. It’s just her. The geeky risk calculator with kinky hair and snorting snores. And this isn’t our first fornication.
My cock throbs in my hand when I imagine how wet and tight her pussy is, and how she’ll moan my name when she clamps around me. She’s a screamer. I guarantee it. You can’t be as controlled as her in real life and not release it in the bedroom. She’d probably want me to pull her hair and spank her ass. I’d do it too. I’d give her a right royal fucking—one where she won’t walk properly for days afterward. She’ll be all bowlegged and shit and thinking about me every time she sits.
I brace one of my hands on the steam-covered tile before pumping my hips faster, my strokes tightening. It usually takes more than a hand to have me on the express train to coming, but I’m playing on a new field today. I’m so fucking close, the world no longer exists. Everything fades—blacks out. I’m on the final stretch.
I tug on my dick harder and faster, punishing it for not being able to take a backseat today of all days. She almost died, yet here I am, jerking off to the image of her peering up at me when she realized I undressed her without an audience.
The image is even better. She’s naked now. Really naked. She’s not the Jamie I imagined the past five weeks or the one I jerked off to when I told my date the Mexican meal we shared gave me the runs. She’s the Jamie I undressed earlier today. The one with the squishy belly and the curvy hips. The perky tits and kissable lips. I didn’t pay any attention to how perfect she was earlier. I was too panicked to look at her how I am now, but I can’t go back. She’s too perfect. Beautiful, smart, and funny—my fucking friend.
I shouldn’t be doing this, but I am.
I’m too far gone.
I’m aching to come.
To hear her shout my name.
As my balls tighten, a jolt spasms down my spine. When I come hard and fast, her name leaves my throat in a whispered roar. I can’t have her know what I’ve done, that just the thought of fucking her sucks me of enough energy to light the country. Except she does know because she’s no longer asleep. She’s standing just outside the partially cracked open bathroom door with her mouth open and her wide eyes not concealed by her foggy glasses fixed on the stream of cum dripping from my palm.
Chapter 23
Jamie
“I’m so sorry.”
I step away from Colby like his cock is a machine gun, and it’s aimed at me. It is. You should have seen the way cum shot out of his crown. It was mesmerizing and seemingly in slow motion since a good ten minutes of my brain screaming for me to look away didn’t have me complying with its request until it was too late. If I’d have listened, he might not have busted my perverted stare.
Can you blame me for hanging around to watch the finale? I’ve never seen such a riveting sight. Colby’s body is already dynamite, but his cock—Mind. Blown! Picture the best cock you’ve ever seen in your life—Colby’s is bigger and better. It’s sexy too. Long, thick, satiny, and with so much girth, I’m wondering why circumferences aren’t brought into the equation when discussing the perfect male appendage. If his performance didn’t match his tremendous anatomy, I’d be demanding an encore. Since it went above and beyond, all I’m seeking is a cigarette, and I don’t even smoke.
“Jamie…” Colby steps out of the shower, covering himself with a towel during the process. It’s okay. I don’t need to see the evidence of his performance to remember it. I’ll never forget it. “Are you all right?”
“I’m great!” Less crazed stalker, Jamie. More professional. Please. “The mugs of cocoa have caught up with me.” I point to the toilet and say, “I need to pee,” like my first hint wasn’t juvenile enough. “I should probably shower, too. I’m… sticky.” Someone kill me, please. This can’t get any worse.
Some of the brain cells I lost watching Colby bring himself to climax return when I see an amused twinkle in his eyes. He’s loving the fact he has embarrassed me.
“Why are you smirking? I just busted you masturbating. This…” I swivel my finger around my inflamed face, “… should be on there.” I make the same gesture to his face.
“Why would I be embarrassed?”
A toilet break is the last thing on my mind when I shadow him into the main section of his room. “Ah… ‘cause I just busted you masturbating. Duh.” My last word isn’t needed, but I’m still low on brain cells.
“And? There’s nothing wrong with taking care of business, Prim. If you did it more often, you probably wouldn’t be so uptight.”
“I can’t do… that.” My last word is nothing but a gurgle. I’m not choking on my spit because I’ve never masturbated before. It’s from Colby drop
ping his towel. Even flaccid, his cock is stupendous. “I could probably give it a whirl. There’s no harm trying something new.”
I curse myself for talking out loud when Colby cocks his head to the side. “You’ve never masturbated? Ever?”
When he steps closer to me, his cock swings like a pendulum in a grandfather clock. I’m not a fan of giving head, but it’s the fight of my life not to fall to my knees right now. I wouldn’t hold back if I weren’t afraid of being rejected.
“We’re not having this conversation with your dick hanging out.” I pretend to stray my eyes to the wall. In reality, I’m giving myself eye strain. I can’t take them off him. The visual is too much. I’m burning up everywhere, my near-freezing a thing of the past.
Colby tugs on a pair of gray sweatpants. “Better?”
I want to yell, no! Instead, I nod. “Much, although we’re still not having this conversation. I just said that so you’d put on some clothes. It’s cold today. I don’t need you to explain yourself.”
“Explain myself? What exactly am I explaining?” He stalks my way, his walk arrogant. “That I have a cock half an inch bigger than my brother’s? That there’s nothing wrong with stroking one out in the shower on the quiet days?”
Jealousy smacks into me from his ‘days’ comment. I would have preferred months but would have settled for weeks.
“That you’re so fucking worked up right now, I’d give anything to switch the tension on your face to relief.”
Colby’s hot breaths fog up my glasses when he pins me to the outer wall of the bathroom with his crotch. In case you’re wondering, gray sweatpants may as well be tissue paper when it comes to containing the manhood I’m striving to ignore. “What did you hear, Prim?”
“Hear?”
He jerks up his chin. “In the shower, what did you hear?”
The Drop Zone Page 16