Page 19 of Overachiever
The disappointment that thought brings should worry me, but instead it raises the big question. What if he was serious? We’re stuck here, away from our friends, living on top of one another. Clearly, we both want to find someone to have sex with and it’s hard to bring anyone back when we share a room. Would it be a bad idea to sleep with each other? It’s just sex. Wouldn’t it be better to be with someone I know and trust?
It’s a moot question if he didn’t mean what he said, and I could drive myself crazy arguing over thewhat ifsandshould I’sin my head. I’m going to be direct and ask him.
The debate continues in my mind while I finish showering and get dressed, but when I emerge from the bathroom to see Owen sitting at the table, shirtless, my vagina makes the decision.
“Hey.” He grins at me and shoves a cup across the table. “I brought you one of your sugary monstrosities to help your hangover.”
“You mean coffee?” The whipped cream topped cup of chocolatey iced coffee is barely in my hands before I take a long drink. Heaven.
“That isn’t coffee. It’s a milkshake.” He wiggles the cup in his hand. “This is coffee. Black. Puts hair on your chest.”
“You’d better drink up then,” I retort, sitting across from him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And you’ll be happy to know my solid masculinity isn’t threatened by your criticism of my lightly haired chest.”
“Good, I’m relieved.”
“As you should be.” An awkward silence falls between us, and I’m trying to find the words to break it, but he beats me to it. “We kissed. You were drunk. It doesn’t have to be weird. Okay?”
He’s giving me an out, to blame it on the alcohol. He said “youwere drunk” not “wewere drunk.” Does that mean he would’ve kissed me if he was sober? Ugh, I have to stop analyzing this and ovary up.
“Do you want to have sex with me?” Perfect, Remee. Blurt it out. Awesome job.
A suddenhurksound is followed by coughing, and he grabs a napkin just as a drip of coffee falls out of his nose. That must burn, judging by the way his eyes are watering. Trying to choke to death wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping for, but once he gets the coughing under control, he stares at me, his mouth twitching. The few seconds before he answers are months long. “Is this a trick question or an invitation? Did you get into the vodka already?”
“No, I mean...” His gaze stays on me, and I take a deep breath. “Last night you said you wanted to kiss me. If it was just because you were drinking, I understand, but if not, I thought maybe we could…” My teeth scrape across my bottom lip. “Look, we’re going to be here a while and sex is a natural biological need we both have. I see no reason to deny ourselves when we could meet that need for each other. As long as we could keep it to that. Just sex between friends. A summer fling. But if you aren’t interested, it’s fine.”
His expression is hard to read. Disbelief mixed with amusement if I had to guess. Not reassuring. “Let me see if I understand. You’re asking me if I want to provide the service of orgasms to meet your biological needs?”
I’m screwing this up. “I’d do the same for you, of course.”
His smile is no longer restrained. He grabs my hands and leans across the table. “Rem, that’s the least sexy proposition I’ve ever heard. Luckily, I know sexy so we can work on that. Try this. Owen, I want to fuck you. Often, and to a great level of exhaustion.”
My face heats, though I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not saying that.”
“Fine.” He gets to his feet and starts pulling down his pants. “Just let me get a shower.”
“Not right this second!”
He points a finger at me. “You didn’t let me finish. Let me get a shower, and we’ll go enjoy this beautiful day we have off work. Then if you’re nice to me, I will provide orgasms.”
“You’re so full of it.”
“That’s no way to get into a guy’s pants, Rem. Work on that!” he calls, as he heads into the bathroom.
I must be crazy.
Chapter Seven
Owen
Holy fuck. Did that just happen?
Last night, when she kissed me, I assumed it was the alcohol. It took every scrap of self-control I’ve ever had not to strip her naked right then. What I expected this morning was for her to act like it never happened or brush it off, and we’d have a laugh over it.
The same way it went after she came in her sleep. I know she was dreaming about me—she said my name as she woke up—but I didn’t read much into it. I’ve had sex dreams about damn near every woman I’ve ever spent time around including plenty I wouldn’t touch in real life.
Remee asked me to fuck her.