My quick inhalation showcased my shock. “How dare you? Tabatha still sits on my bed at home.”
“That’s terrifying,” he said, mirth clear in his tone.
“You still need to do what I say,” I said tauntingly. “You should respect your elders.”
He shook his head, but he also allowed me to move his gargantuan arm, the one he selfishly kept clad under suits for most of the year, closer to me. I was pushing the lines, moving the goalposts, and all for my own selfishness. Lifting my hand, I studied his face, watching for any sign that he felt forced, wanting to continue moving through the days as if he didn’t have his hand between my legs only a few short nights ago. But he gave no sign. Instead, in a gesture which sent both hope and uncertainty swirling through my stomach, he turned his arm over and just like the last time, gave me the inside of his wrist to paint with my fingers.
The ten for ten was one-sided and it went for much longer than any timer I’d ever used, but it made the rest of the drive nourishing in a way I tried not to over-analyse.
“Mr and Mrs. Shelbin?” The young girl at the bar asked and I gave a loud bob of my head in agreement.
“I -” Corbin began but I pinched his thigh to stop his correction, enjoying only the beginning of what I knew was going to be a freaking hilarious story.
“That’s correct,” I looked up at him with a smile. Poking him was just too fun and while she finalised our details in the check-in book, which looked damp and something they’d had since the 1930s at least, I watched the frown on his face deepen. He was definitely thinking the same thing I was, but with a much weaker poker face.
The lingering scent of stale beer, years of embedded body odour, and carpets steeped in old cigarette smoke enveloped us, only deepening my delight. When she handed him a rusted old key attached to a keyring the size of a postcard, I reached to take it knowing he was close to walking out the door.
“Straight up the stairs. First room on the right,” the girl said, already looking back at her phone not giving a toss that we were paying customers.
“Come on, Mr. Shelbin,” I swooned, emphasising the misnomer.
His silence was enough to know exactly what he was thinking, and I was doing everything in my power to hold back my laughter. Probably the last time he let me choose anything because I was none from two, I thought, biting my lip to hide my smile.
This place was a dive.
Neither of us spoke as he followed me up the stairs, the railing sticky from something I did not want to know, before I unlocked the door to what she referred to as our room.
“Is this what physical clickbait feels like?” I whispered with a sweeping gaze around the shoebox sized space. The carpet, if you could call it that, was so thin you wouldn’t dare walk barefoot for fear of stepping on something. The bed linen, which I think used to be white, was grey and if my eyes did not deceive me, the pillow had mascara smears. It was nothing like the last two places we’d stayed, and I forced my open-mouth to close. Although, my horror was overshadowed by hilarity.
“It smells like feet, Mrs. Shelbin,” Corbin said from behind me, his voice monotone, and his disgustingly accurate assessment was enough to free the belly laugh I’d been fighting to contain. When I turned to look at the horrified expression of his face as he realised the bathrooms were communal, I lost all control, the hilarity of the situation exemplifying itself in unladylike snorts and deep gasps as I fought for composure.
“No,” he shook his head adamantly, “we aren’t staying here.” He fought to remain stoic, but I could see that smirk. The one which made my tummy feel like warm candle wax, and it only made me laugh louder.
“What do you mean? You don’t want a showeranda potential case of tinea?” His look of revulsion only set off another few minutes of laughter until we both quietly exited the room, touching absolutely nothing, and headed for the front desk to notify them of our imminent departure.
“That will be an absolutely not,” Corbin mumbled as we stalked back to the car.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologised, sounding anything but sorry. “But…” I pointed towards the view of the ocean a few hundred metres from the carpark before turning back to the eyesore which looked nothing like the images online. “I’m deeply confused and would also like their photographer to take all my future photos. I was catfished so hard.”
Corbin shook his head. “You owe me a dip in the ocean for that atrocity.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head.
“Don’t make me call it,” he shot back quickly, and I knew either I willingly went in or he wouldEvermoreme anyway.
I groaned loudly as we walked to the truck. “Fine, but you’re annoying. Let’s eat and then grab our swimmers and I’m only going ankle deep!”
“Nice try. We both need to immerse ourselves entirely to rid the smell from our pores.”
It was late afternoon by the time we changed and headed for the sand. I wasn’t thrilled about swimming in any capacity, but I was looking forward to seeing half-dressed Corbin. Although when we dropped our towels on the sand and he took his shirt off, I did everything but look over. Trying my best to remain unfazed by that chest and the softness to his stomach which was somehow still invitingly warm. He looked after himself and I knew he enjoyed a morning run, but his physique was also genetically gifted. The subtle, smooth abdomen that carried its own allure dipped beneath his swim shorts and with shuttered memories of our shared shower, I was lifting my dress and walking towards the water.
I needed to cool off.
“Coming, Mr. Shelbin?” I taunted over my shoulder, not daring to look back lest he see the desire written across my face.
I heard him clear his throat before he ran past me into the ocean, diving under the waves like he was auditioning for Baywatch. When he surfaced with a grin I hadn’t seen before lighting his entire face, I froze. With the afternoon sun glistening off the water and further highlighting the green of his eyes, I was immobilised by his beauty. By the happiness that oozed from his skin and spread through the water until it reached my toes in the whitewash.
“Are you coming, Mrs. Shelbin?” He teased and my mind immediately went somewhere it shouldn’t. A place where the water was much warmer, his hand was between my legs and I was fisting his cock. A place where he groaned into my neck as his warm pleasure coated my hand. A place where I realised, I’d always had some kind of crush on my best-friend, only now, it was starting to feel a little deeper and a little more like something else I wasn’t willing to name.
