Chapter 41 #2
I just want to trail my fingertips over his firm chest. I want to lick every ridge of muscle, kiss my way up and down his torso like I’ve got all the time in the world.
I want to wrap my hand around his cock, feel the heat of him in my palm, and stroke him.
Up and down.
Up and down.
He clears his throat, snapping me out of my daydream.
"Shit, sorry. I was—"
"Checking out your husband?" he teases, turning the tap off. The only sound between us is the soft drip-drip-drip of the shower-head. "That’s not a crime, you know? I check you out every single time I see you."
He grins as he wraps a towel around his waist, covering the part of him my eyes couldn’t stop staring at.
Probably for good reason.
I have to leave in—shit—thirty seconds.
"As much as I would love to continue flirting with my husband, I just need the mirror so I can see where I’m injecting. I’m doing my arm today. I don’t know if I’ll be able to reach."
"I’ll do it. I used to do Orlando’s arms, too. That spot’s a pain to get to on your own."
He watches me, hopeful I won’t say no. Terrified that he’s just overstepped.
"Would you? That would be amazing."
I rush into the bathroom, carefully laying out everything I need. He leaps into action right away.
He picks up the alcohol wipe and cleans the back of my arm, waiting patiently for it to dry.
I can feel his eyes on me in the mirror, but I can’t bring myself to meet them.
I already feel too much for him.
"Please don’t go too slow. I’ve found if I just jab it in..." I hold the medication, lid still on, and show him what I mean. "It leaves less of a mark."
My smile is weak. He nods, understanding.
"I would never hurt you." He rips off the lid that covers the needle, hovering it near my flesh, and I look away. "Three. Two. One. All done."
Done? I didn’t feel a thing.
"Now, go. I’ll clean it up. I’ll see you later." He leans down and kisses me like it’s the most natural thing we could do.
And I kiss him back.
It’s slow and deep, his tongue sweeping past my bottom lip. But when I feel him growing beneath the towel, my knees weaken, heat rushing from between my legs to my cheeks.
Then comes the signature knock at his hotel room door.
Avery pulls away reluctantly, jaw clenched, resting his forehead against mine. He grabs my backpack and walks to the door, where we both know Akira is waiting. I follow, slipping on my sandals.
"I’ll see you tonight," I say, rising onto my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.
He cups my cheeks, the pad of his thumb stroking gently as he kisses me back. I’ve come to accept the fact that we no longer kiss when people are around—no longer make out like two people who’re faking it for each other.
We pull apart and he gives me a soft smile, then yanks the door open. And sure enough, Akira is waiting out in the hall. "Morning. You ready to go?"
"Yep," I say, shifting my weight.
He holds my backpack out. "Can you take this to the car? Our girl here has a sore arm at the moment, and shouldn’t carry anything heavy for a little while."
Akira takes it from him without hesitation, her eyes trailing him up and down.
"You going camping, Jones?" she teases.
Avery’s hands move to cover himself up over the towel.
Akira snorts. "That’s an impressive tent."
"Akira!" I hiss, a blush staining my cheeks.
"Of course, I’ll take the bag. Anything for our girl." She winks.
I groan, then slap a smile on my face, turning to Avery.
"See you later." I walk out, closing the door behind me. Akira leads the way to the car parked at the back of our hotel.
***
"Why are you hiding away?" Akira asks, my feet buried in the sand with my ass sitting comfortably on one of the towels she’s packed for everybody.
"Hiding away?" I squint, my sunglasses are not blocking out the sun very well. She packed an umbrella for me, too, which I’m grateful for. After our time at the venue in Montana, and I told her about my MS, she’s been a lot more protective over me.
Making sure I’m always comfortable, rested, and never alone.
I miss being alone.
"You’re practically wearing winter clothes." She huffs. "It’s basically summer. We’re in Florida at a beach, away from prying eyes." She shakes her head.
I look down at my outfit.
Short, denim shorts that practically ride up my ass, my bright red swimsuit on full display behind my open, flimsy, linen shirt that doesn’t hide a damn thing.
I scoff. "I am not. I just don’t feel like getting in the water right now."
"You’re about to end up with horrible tan lines, girl." She shakes her head, lies back, and picks up the book she’s reading.
"Fuck it," I whisper. I stand, slide my shorts down my thighs, and let them drop at my feet, my shirt following immediately after.
Then I plant myself right in front of her, blocking the sun from her eyes. "Better?"
She might be wearing sunglasses, but I see it. The way her gaze shifts from my lips to my chest, lingering a little too long on my stomach... and thighs. "Are they from…"
"Yep. The medication’s leaving permanent dents in my skin, I think.
Got a fresh one on the back of my arm from this morning.
Still getting used to it." I shrug. "You coming, or am I swimming alone?
" I hold out my hand. Giggling, she takes it, and we race toward the water, diving in headfirst into the waves.