Chapter 25
25
Josefine
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
“Jesus!” I jump, and my coffee sloshes dangerously close to the rim of my mug. “You scared me.” It’s been two days since our hike, and my glutes are still sore.
“You look like you were deep in thought.” He’s fishing for information, but there’s no way I’ll tell him I was lost in memories of him.
“What are you doing?” I change course.
“Hoping I’d catch you. I missed you in my bed last night,” he says as he ghosts circles over my exposed shoulder.
“I will admit, your snoring is much more tolerable than Millie’s thrashing about,” I chuckle.
“I do not snore.” Feigning offense, he tugs on a strand of my loose and unruly hair.
I didn’t even brush it before leaving the room—just came straight to the breakfast buffet.
“Look who I found.” Ezra strides up to the table, my cousin reluctantly trailing behind him. She’s balancing juice and a towering plate of pastries that I hope she plans to share .
“Morning, Ezra. What did you boys get into last night?”
He steals something chocolatey from Millie’s plate before she can swat him away. “We went for a night swim with some of the staff and learned how to make raki.”
“Only Ezra here did more drinking than learning.” Cam smacks his friend’s back and barks out a laugh.
Two women passing by gawk openly. One even bobbles her cappuccino. The men together are enough to send anyone stumbling.
“We’ll leave you ladies to it,” Ezra says, lowering his chin. “Enjoy your breakfast.”
Cam bends to press a kiss against my cheek before following his friend outside. I may or may not ogle his ass as he strides away.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask Millie now that we’re on our own.
Her response is garbled by the mouthful of sweets she’s talking around. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I think you should write.”
“Write? But I’m on vacation,” I protest, picking up the other half of the mystery pastry. It’s flaky and sticky and tastes faintly of figs.
She downs the rest of her freshly squeezed orange juice. “Yeah, but look at this place. You can’t tell me you don’t feel inspired.”
“Of course I feel inspired. This has been the best people-watching week of my life.” I cackle.
“What’s the thing you and Brooks are always saying?” she asks.
My chest expands and warmth unfurls when I think about Brooks and our writing sessions. “ For the plot ?”
“Yeah, that.” She waves a hand like Vanna White at the vacationers milling around us. “How much plottier is this? ”
“True.” I split a smile. “But ‘for the plot’ is typically reserved for turning inconvenient moments into positive experiences. Like the subway unexpectedly shutting down or breaking a heel on the sidewalk.”
She steals a piece of bacon from my plate. “Why can’t it be about whatever the fuck you want it to be about? ‘For the plot’ could be used to describe any juicy-ass shit, don’t you think?”
Huh. She’s not wrong.
“Take Cam, for example.”
“What about him?” I can’t help the shiver running through my veins just thinking about him.
“The two of you together are definitely some juicy-ass shit.” She winks.
Yeah, it’s juicy, all right.
I roll my lips and school my expression. This is why I love this woman. She helps me see things from other perspectives. Everyone deserves a Millie.
Maybe a day for the plot is exactly what I need.
After breakfast, we return to the room, where I pull out my laptop—a first since we arrived on the island.
She changes into a bathing suit and cover-up, then snags my Kindle off the nightstand.
“Don’t you dare judge my smutty books or the stickers on my case,” I call over my shoulder.
My newest sticker, from a niche romance bookstore in Brooklyn reads Begging for a Pegging .
“Oh, we both know you wear them like badges of honor.” She cackles on her way out of the suite.
I fluff the blue-and-white striped cushion of one of the balcony chairs and dust the surface of the wooden table with a towel before placing my laptop on it. The most opulent panoramic view unveils itself from my vantage point. Fronds from flourishing palm trees frame the resort’s private beach. Workers scramble below to secure umbrellas in the wind. Sailboats and luxury yachts kiss the horizon while paddle boards and jet skis sprinkle the cerulean coastline.
I snap a panoramic picture of my dreamy office space and text it to Brooks with a message that reads: For the plot before remembering it’s three a.m. in LA. Oops. When I moved to New York, I was worried our friendship would suffer. While it has changed due to our geographical circumstances, we still communicate regularly and make a point to be available for one another for encouragement and support.
Just as I connect to the hotel’s Wi-Fi and set a timer on my phone, there’s a knock at the door. I consider ignoring it. Housekeeping has already been here, and Millie should have her key card.
Another knock, louder this time, sounds.
“Coming!” I hustle to the door and throw it open. When I do, my heart leaps in my chest. “Cam,” I breathe. “What are you doing here?”
He’s dressed in a tight sage green tee and navy blue shorts that hit his thighs a third of the way down. Just how I like them. And that damn backward cap. How the hell am I supposed to be productive now?
As if he can read my thoughts, he holds up a hand. “I ran into Millie, and she mentioned you were going to write.”
“Mm-hmm.” I take a small step back, hoping that if I can avoid his intoxicating smell, I can keep my hands off him.
He holds up his laptop case and camera bag, his eyes shimmering with hope. “I thought maybe we could share an office space? ”
Biting my lip, I step aside.
There’s no way I’ll get any work done with this perfect specimen of a man in my hotel room. I’m not even going to fight the temptation of his chiseled jaw and perfect stubble. We’re just going to have to get it out of the way; clear the space for a productive writing session.
He slips out of his flip-flops and regards me, still clinging to his bags. “I promise I’m not here to distract you.” His words are earnest, but his quirked brow says otherwise.
“Right.” Grinning, I shake my head. “You are not the least bit distracting.” I wave a hand in front of his chest. “Fine. I think we should get this distraction out of the way.”
“What?” He gently places his bags on the floor.
Orgasms release endorphins and oxytocin. Endorphins and oxytocin are good for cognitive flexibility, therefore… “Orgasms are good for creativity.”
In one fluid motion, Cam pushes off the dresser and pulls me by the waist until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. He buries his face in my neck, sending goose bumps skittering down my arms. “I think I remember you saying you like to take control.”
He gasps when I grab his arms, spin, and throw him onto the bed.
I straddle his hips. “Think you can handle it?”