Page 8 of Promise Me Forever
Me: Also, payback’s a bitch.
Jett: Looking forward to seeing what you dish out.
“I’m almost ready. I forgot my toiletry bag.” Indy runs out of the bathroom with one towel wrapped around her body and another her hair. One hand is holding the white fabric closed, the other is reaching for whatever she left out here. And me, well, I’m watching the slit open wider with every step she takes. Sexy-as-hell legs give way to her lush thighs. A droplet of water slides down, landing on a birthmark on the back of her thigh.
“Take all the time you need, cherry. I’m enjoying the view a whole hell of a lot.” I recline in my seat, spread my thighs, and wait to see what she does next. The truth of the matter is, I’d love for her to drop the towel, climb on my lap, take my cock out, and ride me while I palm her breasts.
“I bet you are, Toren. I’m also going to make you work for it.” I let out a low chuckle.
“You always this much trouble to strangers?” I’m giving her hell; she sees right through my line of bullshit.
“Only the ones who look like they can keep up.” The smile she sends me only makes my dick throb harder.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions, cherry.” I lick my lower lip, place my forearms on the top of my thighs, and wait for what she says next.
“And you’re still here,” she points out, eyes glinting with amusement. “So, either I’m right or you’re about to prove me wrong.”
“Careful, Indy, you might like it.” I drop my voice, gaze lingering on her barely-clothed body.
“If I didn’t think I would, I wouldn’t have said a word.” She has the last word, and I’m more than okay with it because gamefucking on. Indy has no idea what she’s in for, because I’m going all fucking in.
7
Indy
Ihurry back into the bathroom, a rush of adrenaline hitting me right between my thighs.Again.I really should have brought my toy. The last time I did that, it went through the X-ray machine, the beeping noise went off, and my luggage had to be checked. Yeah, morbidly embarrassing to say the least. For obvious reasons, I’ve since left it at home. So, on this trip, it’s just me and my hands; the shower head doesn’t detach, either, which is a bummer in itself.
I’ve got to get myself together. I told Toren I wouldn’t take that long, and here I am, dilly-dallying instead of going through the motions. I’m too lost in my lust-induced, body-aching, thighs-quivering, flirting banter that’s been going on with Toren. It doesn’t matter that I risked it all for the proverbial biscuit and used my fingers on myself minutes ago. My pussy, well, she’s being a greedy bitch. She wants more, and while I can’t blame her, I also can’t leave Toren waiting any longer than I already have.
I flip my head over and pull the towel off, using it to wipe the condensation off the mirror. I didn’t plan on washing my hair, but sitting outside and sweating meant my hair became grimier faster than normal, and now it’ll have to air dry because time is of the essence. I go through my routine: moisturizer, tinted SPF, some blush, and a few coats of mascara are about the size of it.I run my fingers through my hair, grab some hair product, and apply it throughout. All that’s left is to put my clothes on.
Luckily, I didn’t overpack, so my options are limited, or I’d probably make a wreck out of the bathroom by tossing clothes that I don’t think looked right on my body or the texture annoys me, and since I’ve spent the majority of my time looking for Toren Navarro, shopping has been kept to a minimum. My options are jeans, a pair of linen shorts, and a maxi-style dress. I’m not exactly sure about the vibe of the steakhouse we’re going to. I slip my dress over my head; it falls around me like a whispered promise—light, flowy, and impossibly soft with every move I make. The color is a gentle shade of seafoam green, with intricate patterns in deeper greens and hints of gold. The bodice dips into a delicate neckline, held together by slender straps that leave my shoulders bare. Beneath my waist the dress loosens into a flowing silhouette before cascading freely to the ground.
The dress feels like you’re caught in a breeze of silk, and it’s not often I can wear it back at home. I do a quick spin to look at the back, loving how open it is with the thin ties lacing together in a corset-type scenario. I’d purchase this style in every color, if possible; too bad it’s a one of a kind where the designer only sold so many before putting it out of production. Miranda may be a raving lunatic at times, but she has a sense for fashion.
I take one last look before sliding my feet into a pair of gold sandals that give me a hint of height, a necessity standing next to the man who’s so much taller than I am. I’m struggling with the thought process to clean up the bathroom in case we land back here later or to just say screw it and leave my mess everywhere. I chew on my bottom lip for a moment, wrestling with the idea, when I could have been doing it from the very beginning. In the end, I hang up the wet towels, toss my toiletries back in the bag, scoop up my dirty clothes, and put them in the laundry hamper the bed and breakfast provides.
Then I grab my lip gloss, slide it on, and open the door, only to come face to face with Toren.
“Jesus,” his voice whispers across my skin, a lot like my dress does, and now I’m even happier that I decided on it. It doesn’t demand attention—it invites it. And it clearly does something to the man standing in front of me with a look of desire flashing in his eyes while they devour me from head to toe. “You’re beautiful, cherry. I’m not sure I want to share you with the outside world tonight.” The tips of his fingers slide along my collarbone. My head tips, liking his words and his actions.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Toren. And as much as I’d love to stay in tonight, we do have to talk shop.” I somehow manage to get my head on straight instead of sayingyes, pleaseor begging him to pull the strings at my back that will have my dress dropping to my feet, and he can have a different type of meal.
“Always busting my balls, woman. Food, work, and then we’re shelving the rest of it for another time.” His work-roughened hand slides down my arm until he’s lacing our fingers together. “Anything else you need?” His tone of voice is testing the waters to see what I’ll say or whether I’ll take the bait.
“Just my purse.” I look to where Toren was sitting not long ago, remembering how settled he seemed. And already know what material I’ll be using when I’m alone in my room later tonight. “Thanks, I’ll just do a quick change of my purse.” He lets my hand go, and I instantly feel the loss. I do the transfer of things—wallet, phone, and keycard, along with my lip gloss are all the essentials I need.
“Ready?” he asks.
“I am. Thank you for waiting for me.” He opens the door for me, and I’m sure the inn keepers have taken notice that I’ve gone from coming and going by myself to a plus one, which means word is going to get around town. Hopefully, Toren doesn’t mind, especially since he’s kept everything under wraps thus far.
“Cherry, it’s only fair. You waited for me, and I made you wait a hell of a lot longer.” I’d look down at my phone if it weren’t tucked away and my other hand weren’t wrapped in his.
“I’m not so sure about that. I did, after all, have to come back out and clean up my mess.” We take the stairs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by me the way Toren fills out a pair of jeans. The dark wash denim paired with a black button-down shirt and cuffs rolled to show off his muscular forearms. The man is hot, and he carries himself in a way that doesn’t make him come off arrogant, a nice change of pace to the usual type of men I’m around.
“It doesn’t matter. Would have waited longer, Indy.” We bypass the front desk. Thankfully, it’s empty.
“Oh, so you like delayed gratification,” I say with a teasing tone.
