We take each other in for several heartbeats.
Heartbeats where every kiss he gave me last night swells in memory in the flesh of my lips.
The sunlight streams into the room, and the bed is undone, and we’re both in it, and our eyes are wildly going up and down.
A desperate urge to jump his sexy bones rushes through me, and I notice the primitive alertness that settles in his eyes as he quietly rakes me, top to bottom, as my body shakes in lust inside an old Disney World t-shirt courtesy of one of Melanie’s yearly “stay young” trips.
His eyes look so dark this morning I swear to god there’s not a fleck of blue in that hot-deviled gaze anymore.
Before Remy can even ask what I am doing in his bed, I hop to my feet and briskly go to change, insanely aware of his eyes tracking my movements across the room.
But he never comes after me.
“It’s normal, when this happens.” Pete shrugs at the gym, when Remy doesn’t appear after two hours. “You might want to do something with your day, Brooke. There’s no point in you not enjoying yourself and getting a little sun.”
Really, after a night of drinks, the word “sun” is not as welcoming as it is usually to me, but I nod and walk a little of Miami, trying to soak up the amazingly vibrant cultural mix of Latinos and more, but I just don’t have the energy for it.
I’ve never been hung over in my life.
It’s definitely an experience I don’t ever want to repeat.
I’m parched no matter how much water I drink, and I’m also nauseous and foggy-headed, weak and unwell, and I can barely open my eyes wide enough to see where I’m going.
But I still make an effort, and decide to call my parents from my cell phone as I head down the shops at Midtown Miami.
“Where are you now?” my mother demands. “Your father wants to know if you’re going to that famous restaurant, What’s-it-Called, the one where the movie stars go?”
“Mother, I’m working,” I tell her. “This isn’t a vacation to me. And if you told me the actual name of What’s-it-Called, I might have a clue about what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, never mind! But we got a new postcard from Nora! She’s in Australia, and she sends all her love. You should see the beach in the picture, goodness! Now that’s paradise. I wonder if she’s seen any real alligators. Or is it crocodiles that live there? Crocodiles or alligators?”
“Crocodiles, Mom. And I think there are some here in Florida, as well. Hey, I don’t want to run out of battery, I’ll call you next weekend, all right? I just wanted to check up on you.” I hang up, because it was seriously not a good idea to call my parents today. They’re great and I love them, but they’re my parents.
They’re nosy and opinionated and they naturally get on my nerves.
I especially resent the fact that their dreams for my worldwide stardom shattered the day that my knee did, and I know that they don’t truly believe that I will ever be able to live a “full” life now.
It would be so much easier to deal with them if Nora would do more than just send a monthly postcard too.
Heading back to the hotel, I spot Diane at the gift shop, and we share a quick lunch.
“Pete tells me our guy isn’t doing well today,” she says, her tone both questioning and sad.
I pick at my salad and keep hydrating with natural fruit juice, merely because my temples have been throbbing all day. I just know my liver is not used to the kind of abuse of the likes it received yesterday. I’ve always treated my body kindly. Today it’s just angry at me for alcohol overload, bad food choices, and unfulfilled lust. “Does it happen frequently?” I ask, looking up from my lettuce with vinaigrette to her.
She nods.
“I see,” I say, weakly, and set my fork down. “Is it because he doesn’t handle alcohol well or is it some sort of anger issue?”
“I’d say it’s an anger issue but I don’t know for sure.” Lifting her iced tea, Diane leans back and shrugs. “I’m the one who knows least about it. All I know is Remy is a handful.” She nods meaningfully, and sips through the straw. “A handful. Which is why I really, truly want you to reconsider before you … well, of course, unless you already …?”
“Nothing happened, Diane.” I rub my forehead and ask for the check.
We sign off and she invites me over to her room to check recipes, but instead I go to the suite, which I notice Pete or Riley kept closed with the “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging from the doorknob. I slide my key and head inside to quietly start cleaning up the worst of the mess.
“Just sleep.” He pulls me closer to him, and I can feel his erection between us, fiercely hard and pulsing with life, making me shiver inside. “And this,” he murmurs.
He cups my jaw and puts his lips on mine with such gentleness that all my cells seem to fuse with his. I moan and part my lips, sliding my hands into his hair, feeling a little crazy as I push my br**sts up to his chest. Suddenly I want his hands on me, I want his tongue all over me. When he brushes it, slick and hot, against mine, I feel like I vanquished the impossible. Trembling, I clutch his face, kissing him harder.
He slows me down with his tongue, his fingers twined in my hair, guiding my head to the slow, drugging rhythm of his mouth. God, I want him to touch me in all the parts where he can fit. Everywhere. Anywhere. I’m so swollen and lubricated, I thrum, and he’s so hard between our abdomens, I know how much he wants me too. But we said just “sleep” … and “this” … and now I don’t want “this” to stop.
He kisses me so slowly and so deeply that I run out of breath. He only unlatches my mouth to allow me to catch my breath, and then, he brushes his tongue back against mine, stroking my lips, the roof of my mouth, and my teeth. He suckles, sucks, turns, twists. I fall in love with his kiss so fast, that soon I don’t know where my hands are, where I’m lying.
My entire body is consumed by the way he f**ks my mouth until my lips are raw and swollen and it hurts to kiss him back even though my frenzied body demands more. When I’m sure I’ve tasted blood from either his lips or mine or both, I draw back to breathe and pant, noticing his cut has reopened. He’s the one bleeding from kissing me. I moan softly and lick him gently, and he groans with his eyes closed. He sifts his fingers down my hair and pushes my face to the crook of his neck, cuddling me, his chest rising hard and fast under mine.