Twenty-Seven: Tell Me You Like Me

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COLLINS TASTED LIKE sweet sunshine—hot and delicious

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COLLINS TASTED LIKE sweet sunshine—hot and delicious. Sticky and slick like a summer day. A fucking treat.

I wanted to bask in the glow of this girl, and I didn't care if it burned me, didn't care if the sun eventually had to set, didn't care about anything but revisiting her sweetness. But this time, you know, with my dick.

She was a mess, though, and as hot as it was to see, I promised I'd clean her up. Standing, I walked from the bed to the bathroom and flicked on the light. And then the shower.

"Beau?" Collins called after me, her voice muffled beneath the smattering of water on tiles.

I smiled, feeling oddly satisfied that she seemed to immediately miss me. There was a hint of it in her voice, unmistakable.

"I was coming back for you," I said, a grin still plastered on my face as I rounded the corner into the bedroom again. "Don't worry."

Bending over the bed, I scooped her into my arms, enjoying the way she gasped in surprise.

"What are you doing?" she asked as I carried her back toward the bathroom. Steam was already slipping through the crack in the doorway.

"I'm cleaning up my mess," I said, a deep chuckle slipping out. "You know, before we make a new one."


I stared at the bathroom door in the reflection of the mirror. The closed bathroom door. I told her to leave, but it wasn't like she could have gone far. For crying out loud, she lived here, too. Her muted footsteps echoed in the hallway, and it felt like she was stomping on my heart.

It was ridiculous how pissed I was considering how I did the same thing to her in the hot tub. I'd put a stop to it when I wasn't sure if we both wanted the same thing, and now she just did the same. But never had something done out of respect hurt this bad.

I shouldn't be this pissed, but I was. And I supposed it wasn't necessarily directed at Collins. I was fucking mad at myself for thinking that this last week had meant something. That those kisses had meant something. That we meant something.

But she still wanted to pretend we didn't. Fine. Okay. But then baby girl needed to give me some space because every time we inched closer, I found it harder to stop when it came time to pump the brakes.

With a massive sigh, I walked to the shower and turned it on. This was possibly the worst place to be at the moment. Every time I took a shower, it was a goddamn struggle not to think of how her skin had felt against mine beneath the pelting water, and right now, after having her beneath my fingertips minutes ago, I was all but dying.

Washing away all the places that Collins had touched me felt wrong, but I needed the water to beat some sense into me. Letting it pour over me, I rested my head against the shower wall, swearing under my breath. My eyes lowered to my persistent erection as my body screamed at me, wanting to know why the hell I wasn't doing something.

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