I knew the quality of the water could quickly degrade in the storm, so I decided to take a shower while I still could.
“Don’t answer the door,” I told her.
As I stood in the shower, I could smell Blaire’s shampoo lingering in the steam. I inhaled deeply and felt my entire body react. There was something about her scent that drove me a little crazy. I listened, but heard nothing. I lazily soaped up my cock and felt a responding arousal jerk through my body. Energy tingled up my spine, and I felt myself swell in my own hand. I stood there debating, but without warning, Blaire entered my imagination, wearing nothing but a thong and that damn hat. My cock reacted by swelling to the point of pain. Grunting lightly, I leaned one arm against the tiles and slowly used my other hand to start stroking my dick in long, even strokes.
She’s wearing cute little runners along with that nonexistent thong. We’re on the boat, and she’s lying back on that rough wooden table. Her breasts are perky and smooth, and her nipples a cute, suck-worthy pink. With a flirty smile, she spreads her legs wide open to me. I reach forward to touch her, but her thighs snap shut on my hand.
“You can only use your mouth.”
I grip the corners of that table and, without breaking eye contact, I slowly drag my hot mouth down the side of one thigh, loving how she squirms against me. And then she’s pulled the fabric aside for me, showing me the most perfect, glistening wet pussy I’ve ever seen in my life.
Oh god, I was so close to coming. My hand pumped faster and harder over my marble-hard dick. Fuck, I need to come.
I plunge my face between her legs and bury my tongue into her sweet depths. I felt like all the blood in my body was now pulsing in my dick. I was five, maybe six hot strokes away from blowing my load when a pounding noise pulled me back into the shower.
“Viktor. Viktor, can you hear me?” Blaire rattled the doorknob.
I cupped my nuts and winced. My voice sounded slightly strangled. “What is it?”
“There’s a man at the door.”
I whipped open the shower curtain and grabbed my Glock. I looked around the bathroom for some sort of coverage, but Blaire had left me only a single hand towel. I clutched it in front of me to cover up my swollen modesty, and then I yanked open the door and mouthed, “Don’t speak.”
Her eyes were like two perfect saucers as she swept her eyes up and down my wet body. I clutched the towel a bit harder to my still-throbbing cock and motioned for her to move into the bathroom.
She had a slight, nervous stutter as she whispered, “I didn’t answer, but he said he was the manager.”
Knocking sounded again at the door.
“Stay in here.”
I cocked my weapon and moved to the hotel room door. I pinned the barrel of my gun against the wood at head level before stepping up to the peephole. The same manager who checked us in was standing outside my room.
“What is it?”
The manager spoke through the door. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but as a safety measure, we are asking all guests to stay in their rooms for the duration of the storm. I forgot to tell you when we checked you in. If there is an emergency, we will come up to your room to warn you.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Thank you,” he said before disappearing from view. I waited at the peephole for another minute, but no one else appeared in the hallway.
I turned around. Instead of being tucked safely in the bathroom, Blaire stood in the middle of the bedroom with awe and lust etched on her expression.
I was a heartbeat away from tossing that towel over my shoulder.
“You keep looking at me like that and there’s going to be trouble,” I warned her.
She was breathless. “Maybe you shouldn’t walk around wearing only a hand towel.”
I worked not to show how she amused me. “If you object to the size of towel I’m wearing, maybe next time you shouldn’t use all the towels.”
Her hands flew to her face, but laughter danced in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
The chemistry between us crackled. I knew that if I took only one step toward her, she would willingly open her body to me and let me do all the things I wanted to do to her. I would give her everything I had to offer and then some. Desire, like a hot flame, licked at me, taunting me.
If I crossed this line, there would be no coming back.
With my last vestiges of willpower, I forced myself to walk into the bathroom and shut the door.
She’s such a distraction. I stared at my reflection, wondering what I was doing, toying with the idea of her. The fact that I was even debating crossing a line concerned me. Blaire was capable of making me forget everything else around us. And that would get us both killed.
I got dressed and repacked my bag. Then I took the towel and wiped all the moisture out of the tub. Going forward, I needed to keep her at bay. The closer she got to me, the more difficult it would be to protect her.
I opened the door and joined her. Every single space in the room was covered with tiny little piles of clothes and items. I didn’t understand what was happening. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are there so many piles of stuff everywhere?”
“I’m trying to Marie Kondo my bag…”
“Marie who?”
“Marie Kondo.”
“Still not ringing a bell.”
She studied me, almost as if to see if I was kidding. “Marie Kondo is a Japanese organizing consultant. Everyone knows who she is. She’s international.”
I knew on some deep level I was never going to win this one. “So you’re trying to reorganize your bag?”
“Yes.”
“You have five minutes.”
She stopped folding and clutched an item to her chest. “Out of everything that has happened in the last few days—the kidnapping and the snake and the typhoon and everything else—I think the most alarming thing is the realization that you really don’t know who Marie Kondo is.”
“Do I look like someone who knows about Japanese organizing consultants?”
“No, but Marie Kondo is famous—really famous.”
I worked not to laugh at her indignation and realized that I felt more alive than I had in months. It was a dangerous feeling.
I had to dig deep to switch into impersonal military mode. “You now have just over four minutes. Start packing.”
While Blaire took a solid fifteen minutes to repack her bag, I stood at the patio window and looked out over the parking lot. Under the streetlights, I could see the rain sheeting sideways. The wind was trying to force massive palm trees to bend over and kneel in submission. I knew I should be more alert, thinking of different scenarios to troubleshoot, but I was so tired I felt almost delirious.
Behind us, every channel on the television reported on the storm that was practically on top of us, but I couldn’t understand a damn word they were saying.
“Do you understand the news?” I asked Blaire, who stood listening to the television.
“No, they are speaking only Vietnamese.”
I wished that Tonko had come with us. This storm had only just started, and it already looked deadly outside.
She looked worried. “They seem to be taking this storm pretty seriously. Do you think we’ll be okay?”