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.”
“I’m gorgeous,” she says, “but not hot enough to fuck. Right?”