25
W e head back to Villa Campagna with Loraine and Nettie. Despite being stone-cold sober, we’re in hysterics as we make our way to our room. We’re so exhausted from the day, and giddy from what happened on the dance floor, that everything makes us vibrate with laughter.
The shirtless dude outside the restaurant listening to heavy metal with no earphones? Hilarious.
Loraine and Nettie belting Britney Spears? Snorting uncontrollably.
The villa employee who was running at full tilt through the living room with a pile of toilet paper rolls? Gut-busting, stomach-clenching laughter. I’m pretty certain we sound like squealing rodents.
Teller almost tripping on the carpet and face-planting when he tries to race me down the hall? Dead. Goodbye, earthlings.
Once we’re back in our room, just us two, the laughter dissolves into silence. I collapse into bed, makeup and clothes still on, but Teller spends longer than usual in the bathroom going through his usual nighttime routine.
What’s taking so long? I can’t help but wonder if he’s avoiding me. If he regrets what happened back at the restaurant.
The anticipation of him coming to bed nearly ends me. I shift and turn, unable to settle, not knowing what’s going to happen when he comes out. I should probably close my eyes and go to sleep. But my mind won’t stop racing. Thinking about his lips on mine. How warm his chest felt against me. How I’ve never had a better kiss in my life. How those wild flutters in my stomach from earlier just won’t quit.
I know it was a one-time thing, a random kiss. But after one hit, I’m craving it all over again. It’s like I’m addicted to the sensation, his taste, his low moans.
Before I know it, I’m hovering outside the bathroom. I knock and the door swings open.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. He’s finished brushing his teeth and is leaning on the sink like he’s bracing himself. He’s shirtless and his abs are on prominent display.
“You good?” I ask, mouth suddenly dry as my eyes greedily take it all in, unable to concentrate. I think I’ve gone into overdrive. His stomach is so chiseled. Does he have a six-pack or an eight-pack? I can’t be sure.
My infatuation with his abs isn’t lost on him. “Are you?” he retorts, smug as he spins around so his back is against the counter.
Energy flashes between us like a live wire. I approach confidently, running my finger down the hard ridges of his abs, exploring, moving up his shoulders and down his arm, all the way to his sun tattoo. Gooseflesh erupts in my wake. I pull in a breath and all feels calm. Like I’ve always known this was going to happen.
He swallows. “What are you doing?”
“Seducing you.” It’s only when I say it out loud that I freeze. Am I actually trying to hook up with Teller Owens? The one who drives me crazy with his planning and disinfecting? The person I feel most comfortable with in the entire world? All without an ounce of liquid courage?
“Shit,” he hisses, lips hovering somewhere around my forehead. Something about his voice, the heady, fiery look in his eyes. He’s suddenly transformed into Sexy Teller again. With a featherlight touch, his fingertips skate up my arms, landing on either side of my face. He tips his head down so his nose slides along the curve of my cheek.
“Or at least, I’m trying to,” I say through the shiver running through me.
“It’s working.” He swallows hard, eyes sliding down every inch of me.
I could angle my head ever so slightly to line my mouth up with his. I’m dying to feel his soft lips on mine again, even for just a fraction of a second. By the hungry look in his eyes, I think he wants to kiss me too. The question is, is this a horrendous idea?
I rise onto my toes and test the waters, slow and steady. At the restaurant, the kiss happened so fast, so I want to savor this. This is right, his lips say, exploring, softly biting my lower lip. I drag my fingers through his thick hair and down the back of his neck. Then I work my way over his shoulders and down the planes of his back, pressing him to me and savoring every flex of his new muscles.
His hands move over my hips and in one swift movement, he’s spun us around and propped me on the counter. We’re a dizzy whirl of hands and fast kisses. Not the measured Teller I’m used to.
Suddenly, I feel constricted. There are far too many layers between us. I reach to the back of my dress, and he gets the hint, pulling me off the counter to help me take it off. With one swift flick, my bra is off too. Who knew Teller was so skilled in the bedroom?
“Wow.” His eyes slide down my body, slow, like he’s taking it all in. As they go lower, I catch the smallest upward curve of his lips.
“Why are you smiling?”
His eyes flick back to mine, and the blood rushes through me, pounding through my ears. “Because you’re perfect. Even more perfect than I already thought,” he whispers, lips catching mine again.
Teller knows I’ve always been a bit self-conscious about the roundness of my stomach and the stretch marks on my inner thighs. And now, I’m entirely exposed in the harsh light of the bathroom. He still makes me feel perfect.
Teller picks me up and carries me back to the bed. I pull him on top of me and we lie there, his hand over my hammering heart. His moan vibrates against my mouth, and I want to catalog this moment, the way he sounds and tastes as he pulls my knee over his hip.
He squeezes my thigh and pauses, placing his opposite hand beside my face to support himself. “Wait, I just want to check in.”
“Okay?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks softly, gaze imploring. “Because I don’t want you to regret it.”
“Do you think you’ll regret it?”
“No. Not at all. I just don’t want you to. I care about you too much,” he says with a gentle swipe of his thumb on my hip bone.
I can’t help but smile. I’m grateful for the check-in. At the prospect of sex, most guys would waste no time getting straight to business. But Teller is still Teller, incredibly thoughtful, always thinking about others.
“I won’t regret it. I mean, we’re just two friends soberly consenting, right?”
He pulls back slightly, blinking through the darkness. “Right. It’s totally normal. Friends have sex all the time. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Just casual vacation sex,” I say, even though this certainly doesn’t feel casual.
“Things won’t be weird after, right?”
“After we make each other come? No, not at all.” We both laugh, his chest vibrating against mine. “Seriously, though. It won’t be weird if we don’t make it weird,” I whisper, reaching to trace the waistband of his boxers.
We shed the remainder of his clothes quickly. Maybe it’s me being awkward about the fact that he’s entirely naked, but I can’t help but laugh when he blindly tosses them into the darkness. Regular Teller would never.
Before he climbs back over me, he pauses. “Wait.” He dives off the bed to grab his jeans from the floor, pulling a condom from his wallet. “Safety first.” A glimpse of Regular Teller.
I laugh. “I didn’t take you for someone who carries condoms around just in case .”
“Maybe there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
His voice is low and husky again. He climbs back over me, threading his hands through mine. A hush falls over us. There’s only the sound of our hearts beating, the bursts of our breaths. My mind is quiet, peaceful, and it occurs to me how comfortable I am. How safe I feel with Teller. Sure, this is entirely foreign, but it still feels like us. Even when he’s looking into my eyes, telling me how beautiful I am and how much he wants this. Even when we’re skin to skin and he’s touching me exactly how I want to be touched, as though he knows my body better than I do.
When we’ve finished and I’m cocooned in his arms, listening to the soft hum of his breath, I can’t help but wish we’d done this sooner. And now that we have, I’m not sure things will ever be the same.