Again, But Better(97)

My hands trail down his arms—they’re all banded with muscle. Dang, he’s stronger than I thought. Our lips meet again, slower and more deliberate. His hands run up my back. Down my legs. A full-blown inferno is raging in me now.

We’re in a hallway.

I pull away again. He smiles.

“We should probably go in and sleep, being that we’re in the hostel hallway.”

“Okay.” He nods without breaking eye contact.

“You know you have really pretty eyes,” I tell him.

He closes them for a moment, smile broadening. “I was thinking that same thing.”

I bite my tongue. “You were thinking about your eyes too?”

He takes a step away from the wall, pursing his lips. Yes, we should go inside, but my body wants to stay here with Pilot. The craving is captivating. It really likes him. This never happens … this always gets old pretty quickly. We kiss, it’s nice, and I’m ready to say goodbye and go back to my own personal space.

Not now. No, thanks. I want less space. No space.

We’ve entered into a staring contest.

“So, I think for us to go in, you’ll have to get down.” He raises his eyebrows. I snort. Oh yeah.

Instead of getting down, I tilt forward so our foreheads meet. “I really like it up here.”

“I like you up here,” he breathes. He runs his hands down my jeans again and my leg death-grip tightens. Then I’m against the wall again, and his lips trail up my neck before reaching mine. I pry up the front of his shirt.

In a hallway. I drop the hem and break away. Suck in a breath. “We have to stop.”

“Did we not stop?” He feigns confusion. I smile, and with a great sigh, unhinge my legs and come back to earth, ramming my hair back with my hand. The keys are on the ground. Our jackets are on the ground. Wow.

“Well, we should do that again,” I add, casually turning the key in the lock.

“Agreed.”

I swing the door open. The older man is sleeping in the far-right corner, and there’s a younger dude two beds over. I drop my purse on the bed and look over at Pilot. He’s still lingering by the door.

This could all disappear tomorrow.

He meets my eyes and raises his eyebrows. “What?”

I walk over and take his hand. Before I lose my nerve, I pull him toward the bathroom.

What am I doing?

I close the door behind us. Click in the locks on both sides. Pilot watches me carefully. I undo the top button of his plaid shirt. He doesn’t move, so I continue, watching his face. I reach up and push the shirt off his shoulders. It falls. He’s wearing a white T-shirt underneath. His hands take my waist and slide under my own shirt. They work their way up my stomach, sliding against my skin, pushing off the top as they go.

“Do you want to…?” he breathes.

“Yeah, you?” I smile.

“I do, but.” He laughs and hooks his fingers through my belt loops and draws me closer. “In this bathroom just seems so un-you.”

He’s right. I do hate this bathroom. His fingers trail around my lower back, tracing the waistband of my jeans. Fire. Fire. Fire.

“Right now, I don’t see the bathroom,” I answer honestly.

He exhales a breath, and his fingers move to unbutton my jeans. He lowers himself down to his knees and slowly guides them off. His fingers trace lines down my legs.

I’m trying to breathe normally. It’s not happening.

I step out of the pants, still wearing my army boots because let’s be real, this floor can’t be trusted. As he rises off the ground, he picks me up again. It’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened in my romantic history. I wrap my arms around him. My legs relock over his waist. Our lips meet. More flames. We move. He settles me on the sink.

The hostel bathroom sink. I start to laugh through our kiss.

He pulls away an inch, smiling. “What’s so funny?”

Another huffed laugh. “I don’t know. I mean, you’re right, we’re in the hostel bathroom. Is this gross? Are we disgusting?” My smile is giant and toothy.

He beams. “I mean, there’s a shower right there, Shane. Are you feeling disgusting?”

“No.” I laugh against his forehead, and then his hands are around my thighs, and he’s picking me up again. We’re moving toward the shower. I squeal, unlocking my ankles and squirming.

“No!” I giggle, my head thrown back. “Not the shower! Anywhere but the shower!”

“What are you talking about? We love this shower!” he quips.

He steps into the tiny shower, fully clothed, with me wrapped around him, having a laughing fit. My legs press against the cold tile wall. We’re taking up literally all the space in here just standing still. His smile widens. He lets go of one of my legs to slam his hand into the one giant silver button. I’m in straight-up hysterics as lukewarm water rains down, soaking us and our remaining clothes. Droplets hang from his eyelashes, and his white T-shirt clings to his skin. As our laugher dies, I release my legs and drop down with my boots. His mouth finds my ear and works its way back to my lips. My hands peel at his T-shirt, bringing it up and over his head. I throw it out onto the floor and take a second to study him. There are abs. His fingers play at my remaining undergarments, tickling my skin. And then, abruptly, the water stops.