Chapter 28
28
Cameron
Working parallel to Joey yesterday was as natural as walking on solid ground.
Despite her proximity and the temptation she always brings, I accomplished all my work for the day. When it came time to edit Ezra’s professional headshots, she paused her own work to laugh with me over his outtakes. The scent of her shampoo would hit me when her hair dipped into my lap like a waterfall. The way she rubbed my forearm after droplets of spit flew from her mouth when she laughed at a picture of Ezra purposefully picking his nose was ridiculously endearing.
When Millie arrived shortly after lunch, slightly wet and disheveled, I excused myself. While I wanted to ask Joey to stay with me last night, I want to give her the space she needs to enjoy the vacation she planned. I’m greedy, sure, but I’ll take what I can get.
Even if it breaks me in the end.
Ezra and I ate our way through the city center—the perfect distraction. Local beers by the lighthouse, pork gyros from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, more beers down a random alleyway, fresh-caught fish at a traditional taverna, then an off-the-grid gelato place recommended by an Italian colleague. A taxi brought us back to the resort, where we sat at the bar, though we were too stuffed to eat or drink any more. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly preoccupied with situating my stool for a better vantage point, praying Joey would walk by.
I obsessed over our text thread for longer than I care to admit in bed last night, thumbs hovering over the screen while I debated whether I should contact her. In the end, I opted not to and paid for it with a fitful night’s sleep, even after rubbing one out in the shower.
This morning, I woke to a notification from Joey. She and Millie plan to laze by the pool today, but they want to know if we will join them for dinner for their last night.
I button my salmon-colored shirt, leaving the top few undone, then I fix my hair one last time before stuffing my phone and keycard into my charcoal slacks.
Mild anxiety courses through my veins like a current. Because this is her last night on the island, and I still have a week left of my contract before I fly back to New York.
We arrive at the resort’s upscale restaurant before the girls do. The walls are painted white, with textured lines that look like someone dragged a rake through the plaster. The waiter leaves a pitcher of water on our table after filling our glasses, and when he walks away, my eyes nearly bug out of my head like those of a cartoon character.
As if she’s walking down a runway, Joey, in nude stilettos, saunters through the front doors. She’s wearing the champagne-colored mini dress from the first night I saw her. Karaoke night. The night we kissed in my office. When she got so drunk off raki I had to help her undress. I was a gentleman that night, but at this moment, that’s the last thing I want to be. The desire to rip that shiny fucking fabric to shreds and worship her body all night long is overpowering.
“You okay?” Ezra chuckles and slaps my back.
“All good.” I wave him off. My sole focus is on the leggy bombshell walking my way. Her dark hair is curled in loose waves, and her skin glows beneath the dim restaurant lighting.
I rise and give Millie a peck on the cheek. The kiss I plant on Joey’s cheek lingers while I inhale her rosemary and citrus scent. I could eat her, she smells so good.
When I breathe “You look gorgeous” into her ear, goose bumps ripple across her soft flesh.
We settle quickly, but almost immediately, her leg bounces beneath the table like a drumbeat. I slide my hand across her exposed thigh to steady her.
Four servers in black place shallow royal blue glasses at each of our place settings.
“What’s this?” Millie asks.
“An olive oil tasting,” I answer. “It was Ezra’s idea.”
After a brief lesson in the history of harvesting olives and the differences in types, a waiter pours about a tablespoon of oil from an amber-colored glass jar.
We’re instructed to swig and swish the olive oil around in our mouths before slowly letting it fall down our throats.
“If it burns, that’s how you know it’s the good stuff,” the waiter says.
Unprepared, the girls immediately choke and sputter, their eyes watering.
When I lean into Joey’s neck and croon, “C’mon gorgeous, you take my cum better than that,” she practically needs an inhaler to calm down .
The remaining oils are equally robust, though the women don’t down such large samples this time.
“That was fun.” Joey pats her lips with a napkin, leaving traces of her blush pink lipstick on the cloth.
“Yes, very cool. Thank you,” Millie adds.
When the staff removes our glasses and replaces our placemats with fresh ones, Joey shifts in her seat so she’s facing me. “What will you do when you get back to the city?”
“For work, you mean?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“I applied for a job based out of Austin, actually. I’m waiting to hear back.”
She rests an elbow on the table, cupping her chin in her hand. “Is it still freelance?”
I nod. “If I get it, I’ll be traveling a bit.”
“Mmm,” she hums, studying me. “I hope you get it.” Her genuine smile fills me with more warmth than whiskey.