The room was pitch black and as I slid out of the sheets in only my underwear, it was a safe assumption that he wouldn’t be able to see me.
I closed the bathroom door as softly as I could and then flipped on the glaring light. I stared at myself in the mirror—at my black bra and matching panties—and asked myself what in the hell I was doing. I was feeling hot about a guy who’d been my casual friend and not even my type. But this weekend seemed to change everything.
My hair stuck up all over the place and my mascara was beginning to run beneath my eyes. I turned on the water and used the hotel soap to wash the grime off my face.
After drying off with the towel, I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes. I pretended that Nate had me pushed up on the sink as my hand slid inside my underwear.
My mind was a slideshow of events, cataloguing each moment with Nate—how close he had gotten in the car in front of his childhood home, his neck bent over mine at the covered bridge, and then his tongue in my ear at the bar. My breathing picked up and fluttered out of me in harsh wisps, but my hand wasn’t doing the trick.
I needed a large and rough hand. Preferably one attached to stacked biceps.
Deciding I was being ridiculous, I turned off the water and headed for the door, inching it open, so as not to wake Nate. I stepped into the room and was about to flick off the light behind me when my eyes panned across the space. Nate’s eyes were open and he was staring straight at me.
My heart nearly exploded out of my chest and my feet became cemented to the floor. I didn’t know what made me drop my hands to my sides but I allowed his gaze to roam freely over my body. I was a petite girl but I had curves. My breasts were a good size, my hips and ass shapely. I’d always embraced my body and the men I dated seemed to appreciate it.
So having Nate see me without any clothes on didn’t embarrass me so much as turn me on even further. But I had a moment of doubt when I saw his gaze land on my stomach near my latest tattoo of a gold gilded picture frame. I realized he could see all of my ink in full glory—at the least on the front of me—and I wondered just how many girls he might’ve been with like me, if any. I would venture to say zero.
When his gaze travelled up to my chest to the exact replica of my father’s Hasselblad 500C/M camera, half obscured by my bra, my nipples hardened in response. He shut his eyes tight and let out an exaggerated breath. I didn’t know what he was thinking—whether he was trying to fight his attraction like I’d been doing, or whether he’d decided to allow me the privacy I needed to walk back into the room.
Maybe he’d decided that he couldn’t possibly be with an inked-up, blue-haired girl.
I flicked off the light and we were shrouded in darkness again. I navigated my way back to the bed and sat down on the edge, facing Nate.
“Sorry if I woke you,” I whispered.
“You didn’t,” he whispered back.
“I thought you were asleep,” I said.
“Well, I wasn’t,” he said, his voice rough and gravelly.
He sounded upset, so now I wondered if something else had been on his mind. “Why not?”
He lifted himself up against the headboard as my eyes became adjusted to the darkness. I could just make out the silhouette of his chest.
“God, Jessie.” I could hear his harsh breaths right before he stood up, completely ignoring my question. I held my breath wondering if he was heading toward me or to the bathroom.
He strode to the window instead and slid open the corner of the curtain to stare out into the night.
“Full moon,” he said, gazing at the evening sky.
In gray boxer briefs, I saw the contour of the muscles on his back. Trim waist, smooth skin, firm and round ass, he could easily model an underwear ad for Calvin Klein.
I had never been with a guy like him before. I liked lean and fit, skinny even. But there was something so beautiful about how he looked standing near that window beneath the backdrop of the moon. Like he was in the frame of a photo, perfectly centered, and I’d probably always retain that image in my head.
His fingers dropped the curtain but not enough to shift it back into place. Just a sliver remained open enough that I could see him as he turned around. Nate’s chest was perfectly smooth outside of a dusting of hair around his nipples.
His stomach was something out of one of those advertisements for a gym. I never paid attention to six-pack abs but there they were, displayed in all of their glory. Near his belly button was a line of light hair that ran a perfect route below his shorts.
And beneath his underwear was the outline of his full-blown erection. A gasp arose from my lips as his gaze crashed into mine. Just like I had done moments before by the bathroom door, Nate didn’t cover himself or try to move away.
His feet were nearly rooted to the floor, as if at a standstill. It seemed neither one of us knew what to do, but we sure as hell both wanted each other.
My gaze travelled up the smooth planes of his body on their own accord, only to focus back in on what was right in front of me. I knew he only joked about having a monster in his pants but good lord; there it was, on glorious exhibit.
“You’re beautiful, Nate,” I said, without any hesitation or shame.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you,” he whispered.
My breath stalled on my lips and I readjusted myself on the bed. Scooting my body against my pillows, my eyes stayed glued to his the entire time, making it plain exactly what I was thinking.
“What are you—” he said and then I effectively cut him off when my hands clasped over my breasts.