I haven’t been with anyone since Slade at the wedding. I never did the drugs with my friends, but Slade might be the exact trick. He can be the one to calm me down and give me a modicum of happiness before I have to reenter the lion’s den at Crier and go on date after bad date via the five different websites I’m subscribed to, each promising to find my “perfect match.”

I step back outside the bathroom, wanting to make my move. His shirt is off, and he’s in nothing other than board shorts. Rippling abs and that perfect, hard ass. Like an athlete. Can I really do this? Maybe not, but I want to try.

“You all right?” He scratches the back of his neck. His chiseled face is colored with sun. He’s so sexy.

I hesitantly lick my lips. “I was thinking, why don’t we just hook up?” My voice falls out in a rush, as if my mouth knows that, if I don’t get to it quickly, it’ll never happen. “I know you don’t do anything serious. And, right now, that’s the last thing I want in my life. Less than two weeks to go, and I’ll head back home. I think we both want each other. So, why not stop the asshole routine and just give it a—”

In just one step, he presses me into his arms, and his lips fall on mine. The first thing I feel is warmth. It’s consuming.

“Can’t stop this,” he groans, pressing his dick against me. It’s hard and so good.

I open myself, letting him take. He lifts me up as if I weigh nothing, pushing me up against the cream-colored wall.

“Just while you’re here,” he pants between laying heavy kisses down my neck.

“Yes,” comes my breathy reply. “Two weeks.” A shudder moves through me as his hands make their way up my dress.

He pulls back. “Shit, the bathing suit.”

After he lowers me, I undo the bathing suit’s halter top tied behind my neck.

“Keep the dress on. I love it on you.”

He drops to his knees, pulling the suit downward. It’s around my feet in mere seconds. The fabric of my dress rubs against my nakedness, brushing against my hard nipples.

Lifting the dress up around my waist, he sucks and licks around my belly button. I’m whimpering as his big hands dent into my thighs, spanning from the inside out. Grabbing his hair, I pull him closer, wanting and needing more. I ache from the way we left things in the back of his car, but my desire burns me from the inside. It rages like a wildfire.

His hands rove down to grip my ass, and all I can do is pray he’ll touch me exactly where I need. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stands back up, cupping my face in his huge hands.

“Wait. What? What are you doing?” I’m confused and frustrated.

He’d better not tell me he’s stopping or that he doesn’t have a condom.