Chapter 3 #2
Victor glances down and seems to finally notice that his towel has split to reveal everything to God and everybody. Against my better judgment, I follow his gaze down again and this time he notices me looking.
“Well, if there’s something else you want to kiss, by all means…”
He widens his knees a little.
I stand up so fast I get dizzy. Or maybe it’s all the blood leaving my upstairs brain and heading south. I’ve heard Victor make sexual innuendos dozens of times. To me, to his other friends, hell, to perfect strangers sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.
He wasn’t even hard. Not for me.
Not like I am. Hard and throbbing and fucking aching for the man my daughter calls Daddy. All the years I’ve had to get over one stupid mistake and less than half an hour alone with him in a resort suite has brought it rushing back.
I pivot so Victor can’t see my erection straining at the fly of my pants. “I’m sorry I hit you. I didn’t mean to.” The words are true, but my voice sounds strange even in my own ears.
There’s a deep sigh behind me. “I know you didn’t mean to, Jason.” Then a rustling sound as Victor gets to his feet. I imagine him adjusting the towel around his hips so it covers him again.
I hope he’s adjusting the towel so it covers him. Don’t I?
“Listen,” he starts.
“And I shouldn’t have lost my shit when you told me about the suite,” I say, barreling over him.
We’ve never talked about what happened the night of Leah’s funeral and we are not starting now.
“I was up very late last night and my flight was at the crack of dawn, but it was delayed and I’ve never been able to sleep on an airplane. ”
“Jay—”
I’m babbling and I know it, but I can’t stop myself.
“So, I’m exhausted and not at my best and I took it out on you and that’s not fair.
” It’s not just the jet lag and I know that but I am absolutely not admitting anything to Victor.
“We’re here for Kelsey’s wedding and that’s the most important thing.
I’ll get my shit together and stop being a dick, I promise. ”
And stop thinking about Victor’s dick, I promise myself.
I grab the strap of the garment bag and basically drag it across the floor from the entryway to the middle of the living area of the suite.
I cannot believe I’ll be sharing this suite with Victor for an entire week.
I let the strap fall when the bag bumps up against the end of the sofa and go back for my suitcase.
Victor is still standing in the entryway. His brows are drawn together and one thumb absently rubs a spot on his forehead.
Back and forth, back and forth. I keep my eyes on that spot so I don’t look at anything below his face.
He’s staring at something—my rolling suitcase, maybe—but I don’t think he’s really looking at it.
When I grab the handle, he drops his hand and his shoulders twitch, like an errant breeze has suddenly reminded him that he’s half-naked.
“I’ll, um…I’ll get dressed,” he says as I pull the rolling suitcase into the suite. “And then, I’ll…I don’t know, explore the grounds or something? Leave you alone so you can take a nap, maybe? You should take a nap or something.”
“Sure, sounds great,” I reply and I make sure that I sound agreeable and accommodating and easygoing.
Like a good roommate should. I can do this.
For my stepdaughter. We already have to put on a show of being co-parents who get along with each other during the wedding.
I can pull myself together enough to make sharing the suite this week cordial.
Victor crosses the living area behind me and goes into the bedroom.
There are sounds of zipping and unzipping a suitcase and fabric rustling.
I contemplate the sofa so I don’t picture Victor dropping the towel and handling himself while he pulls on boxers or briefs or whatever kind of underwear he wears now.
It was black boxer briefs he wore that night. I peeled them off when I—
No, I am not thinking about that now.
The sofa probably pulls out into a bed but I am too exhausted to deal with that. I sit down on one end. Good Lord, it feels amazing to just sit down after this interminable day. I get my shoes off but fuck everything else, and I stretch out along the length of the sofa.
I fit, but just barely, so I guess this will be where I sleep this week, because Victor is a couple inches taller than me and no way would he fit lying this way. I shift around a little, from my back to one side, then the other, and finally decide on a position that’s reasonably comfortable.
There’s a clink next to the sofa and I open my eyes to see Victor looming over me. “Water,” he says and gestures to the full glass that’s now sitting on the coffee table. “You’re probably dehydrated.”
“Mmmm. Thanks.”
He lingers another minute and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. “I’ll bring some coffee when I come back. Half an hour or so? You don’t want to sleep too long and be unable to get back to sleep tonight.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Whatever. Sleep is tugging me under and I am beyond ready for some oblivion.
I think I feel something warm touch my head softly right before I crash.