I’m far from done kissing him, but he makes a valid point. The sooner we get our pics, the sooner we can head back to his room.
To my surprise, there’s a strip of images on the printer. There are four in total. We’re smiling in the first, embracing in the second, and making out in the third and fourth. We make a cute couple, but that’s not what this is about.
When we get to his room, Flamingo Boy opens the door and the instant we’re inside, he lifts me up, pressing my back to the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist, and his mouth crashes down on mine, devouring me like a man starved of touch.
He peppers kisses along my jaw, and down the column of my neck. I lose myself in the feel of his mouth on my skin. It’s hot and wet, and when his teeth close over the tender flesh of my collarbone, I’m slow to react. Before I can protest, he bites me. Then his tongue darts out, massaging the tender flesh.
“Oh.” Desire coils low in my belly, and I roll my hips, unable to ignore the growing ache between my legs.
Flamingo Boy sucks in a sharp breath. “Goddamn, Tink. You feel so good. I need to be inside you right-fucking-now.”
The man has a filthy mouth, and I’m here for it. I’ve never felt so sexy—so desirable—in my entire life. I want this night to last forever.
But that isn’t an option. We’ll just have to make the most of the time we have together.
“Take off your clothes.” Flamingo Boy stiffens, and I can’t blame him. I’m not exactly the forward type. “Please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
The room is dark, but I can hear the smile in his voice just fine.
He lowers me to the floor and then switches on a lamp. A soft white glow fills the space, casting shadows in the corners. His room is virtually identical to the one my roommates and I share, with one notable exception. Instead of two queen-sized beds, he has a king.
The bed is massive, but he’s a big guy, so he probably likes having space to stretch out. At five-three, I’d be lost in a bed that size.
Not if you had company.
He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, revealing an honest-to-God six-pack, and my mouth goes drier than a cotton ball.
Sweet baby Jesus. The man is perfection. Not only are his abs rock-hard, his chest and shoulders appear to be carved from marble, with thick, ropey muscle covering every inch of him.
His eyes meet mine, and he crooks a finger. “Come here.”
I do as instructed. I couldn’t resist if I wanted to.
“Need some help with this?” he asks, hooking a finger in the collar of my swim coverup.
“I wouldn’t say no.” I can’t think of a single reason I’d ever refuse his touch.
His hands skim over my hips and thighs, and then he’s sliding my dress up, revealing my black bikini bottoms. I’m no stranger to showing skin, but I feel exposed in this moment, as if he can see right through me.
Has he figured out that I’m a phony? That I’m playing the role of a carefree twenty-four-year-old tonight?
It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow, it’ll be back to the real world.
He pulls the coverup over my head and drops it on the floor. I reach for the ties on my bikini, but he stops me.
“Let me. You don’t want it to get caught on your bandage.”
I spin around to give him better access because I really don’t. The pain of the tattoo has subsided to a dull ache, and I have no interest in causing a flare-up.
He unties the laces, and my top drops to the floor, leaving my breasts fully exposed. My nipples harden, the skin pulling taut from the combination of cool air and arousal.
Then his hands are on my shoulders, his calloused fingers gently massaging my shoulder blades. I close my eyes and tip my head back, relaxing into his touch.
His hands move expertly over my body, and when they snake around to my belly, a shiver passes through me, raising goosebumps on my arms and legs.
Flamingo Boy slips his right hand into my bikini bottoms, and my thighs slam closed.
