Chapter 7
I FEAR I MAY BE DROOLING.
BILLIE
It shouldn’t be this easy, spending time with someone I don’t know, but Peter is like a puppy—all cute and sweet, in a good mood literally every waking moment.
He talks to anyone who will give him the time of day, and given the fact he’s beautiful and we’re in the fucking East Coast, this means he talks to basically everyone.
It would be annoying if it weren’t so damn endearing.
We’ve moved from our original spot to a shadier one because neither of us needs to get sunburned.
Now he’s lying on his back with his eyes closed, one arm propped under his head.
He has these light-wash baggy jeans on and a T-shirt that not only wraps around his muscled biceps deliciously but has also ridden up to reveal a sliver of his abs.
I fear I may be drooling. His hair, unlike mine, has a bit of a wave to it, and I’m a little obsessed with how it falls over his forehead every time he turns to look at me.
Not a single sexual thing has transpired between us all day. Save for a few relatively chaste kisses, he hasn’t pushed to touch me or to leave and go bang another one out in our hotel. He seems as genuinely content to be here as I am.
There’s no way this can last.
Turns out, I was wrong.
Peter might be the easiest person on the planet to be with.
When I finally claimed to be done with reading and napping outdoors, needing to move my body and do literally anything else, Peter suggested a workout at the hotel, and not the naked-in-bed kind.
Though I probably wouldn’t have said no, I needed to push myself, to do something difficult and exhaust my body after it had far more rest than I’ve allowed it in the last few months.
So off to the gym on the tenth floor we went.
Once we’re both sweaty and spent from trying to outdo one another on the stair climber, I figure this is when he’s going to tell me he’s done. That he’s had the most boring day of his life and wants to find someone more exciting to spend his weekend with.
But nope…
“So, uh, I was thinking…” he starts, suddenly a little quieter than he’s been all day.
I’m not sure if that’s so the middle-aged woman close by doesn’t hear—she’s going so hard on the bike, I’m afraid the thing is going to take off through the window—or because he’s unsure of how to say what he wants.
“We should continue with the general theme of the day and meet up in one of our rooms after we shower. Maybe order some food and lounge around, and then have a different type of workout later?” He shrugs, his bottom lip sticking out as he finishes his question. It’s so cute. I wanna bite it.
“What type of workout were you thinking?” I ask, seriously. I can’t help but challenge him.
Peter moves closer, and the scent of his sweat, which should be disgusting, is annoyingly enticing, somehow.
“The kind where you come on my face, on my fingers, and on my cock.”
My stomach tightens at the thought. I’ve felt him between my legs nearly all day, a constant reminder of his size and how hard he fucked me last night. My clit throbs at the thought of him making me come again.
“The kind where your tight little pussy squeezes my cock until I can’t take it anymore,” he continues, his eye contact not wavering when someone else walks into the space.
“The kind where you scream my name until your voice is hoarse.” Inching closer, he lowers his face until his mouth is hovering below my ear.
“The kind where you come so many times you go to sleep completely spent, satisfied, and sated.” The shock of his teeth on my earlobe makes me gasp.
He chuckles, straightening away from me, then leaning all too casually against the wall, wiping at the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand as if our conversation is entirely innocent.
“Yeah,” I whisper, stopping to clear my throat of the lust lodged there. “Okay.”
There’s no surprise on his face as he pushes off the wall and motions for me to walk ahead of him. As the door clicks behind us, he smacks my ass and asks, “Your room or mine?”
I gasp, but don’t bother scolding him, choosing to turn my head so he can see my lips when I mouth, mine.
I’ve woken up with my face pressed to Peter’s arm for the second morning in a row.
He still smells as delicious as he did yesterday.
I’ve warred with myself several times over whether I should ask him what that smell is.
I want it, but also, would it be torture to be able to smell him after we say our goodbyes?
I told him last night that I’ll be checking out tomorrow. I made no promises we’d have a repeat of yesterday, but if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want to spend today any other way.
“It’s like Groundhog Day,” comes his groggy voice. “I love that movie, and I love waking up like this.”
I smile into his skin, enjoying every moment of his nonsensical rambles. Except it’s not nonsensical at all, when I think about it.
“I think you’re right,” I whisper, so as not to give away how nervous I am.
“It’s Groundhog Day. I hope you’re ready for a full repeat of everything we did yesterday.
” I hold my breath, waiting for his dismissal, or for him to laugh at my lame joke and remind me that we agreed last night was our last night. But that’s not what happens.
Peter rolls over, wrapping one large arm around me and pulling our naked bodies flush with one another. “If you’re not serious, you’d better tell me right now, darling, because there’s nothing I want more than another day and another night with you.”
I look up to find his warm eyes already on me, waiting and hopeful.
“It’d be a shame not to find out whether you like the ending of your book.
” I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “And you did feed me so well yesterday,” I continue, running my hands through his hair as he leans into my touch.
“Plus, I don’t want to find someone else to give me orgasms tonight, you know?
Seems like a lot of work when you get the job done so well.
” At that, his eyes darken, and he rolls us both until he’s on top of me, nudging my thighs apart with his knees.
“No one but me will be giving you orgasms, Elizabeth.” He takes my hands, trapping them over my head and holding them with one of his own. “Do you hear me?” It’s the first time I’ve heard him so serious, so assertive, and demanding. My pussy clenches as a wave of arousal washes over me.
“I hear you,” I say clearly, knowing he wants my words. Needs them.
His lips lower to my breast at the same time his hand brushes against the inside of my thigh, moving higher as he sucks harder.
“No one but me making you this wet and needy.” His talented fingers get to work as his mouth moves to my other nipple. “No one but me tasting you and fucking you, understand?”
I wait a few seconds, but when he bites on the underside of my breast, I yelp. “Mmhmm. Yeah.”
“Give me your words.” His voice is pure gravel, rough and harsh, and I love it.
“I understand. No one but you, Peter,” I whine when he removes his fingers to suck on them, but he doesn’t make me wait long.
In the next second, his lips are around my clit, and my hips are bucking off the bed.
My hands are now free to hold on to his hair, and when I tug, he moans into my sensitive skin like he can’t get enough, like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.
With his fingers curled just right, and his tongue working my clit better than any apparatus I have at home, I come with a hoarse scream. When I come down from my high, I giggle, thinking about how this isn’t exactly the same day as yesterday. It might actually be better.