The Trade(46)

“Oh shit, you did the Jurassic Park tour? Ever since I heard about it, I’ve wanted to go on it.”

“It was amazing. Every second I thought T. rex was going to pop out of the bushes, making that horrendous sound. I had my ATV geared up and ready to take off with any shake of the ground I felt.”

Laughing, I say, “I take it you didn’t run into good old Rexy?”

“Unfortunately, no. Just his steaming piles of turd.” She chuckles wickedly and then asks, “What else is on your vacation bucket list?”

“Besides Richard Branson’s private island?”

“Yes, beside Sir Richard Branson’s private island.”

I scratch the side of my jaw, mulling it over. “Uh, there are a few places. I really want to go on an African safari, take in the beauty of the animals in their natural habitat. I want to see a cheetah run at full speed. I can’t imagine an animal going sixty miles per hour, can you?”

“I mean, I run at about forty miles per hour, so I can see it,” she jokes, and fuck if it doesn’t make me want to drape my arm over her shoulder, bring her into my chest, and kiss the top of her head. She’s wrecking me, one cute personality trait at a time.

“Only forty? Man, that’s slow.”

“Bullshit.” Her eyes widen when she turns to me, and then she starts laughing. “Have you ever seen that episode of The Office where there’s one of those police speed radars outside their parking lot? And they take turns seeing who can run the fastest? Michael started running while a car was passing and claimed he ran thirty-one miles per hour.”

I stare blankly at her. “What’s ‘The Office’?”

She stops mid-stride and her mouth practically falls to the ground. “You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding? Michael Scott, Dwight . . . Pam . . . Jim.” Nothing. I stare. Swallowing, she whispers, “That’s what she said?”

“Uh, what did who say?”

Dramatically, she throws her arms up in the sky and says, “Ohhh . . . myyy . . . GOD, Cory!” Without another word, she takes me by the arm, right above my elbow, and guides me back up the trail to the resort, charging forward, her hair brushing against my skin from the wind and the pace we’re trekking at.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“You’re going to watch The Office, right now.”

“But weren’t we just saying you shouldn’t watch TV while on vacation?”

“This is a life-or-death situation, Cory. Plus, it’s night. I’ll pop some popcorn, and we’ll have a marathon on the couch bed. It’s a form of relaxation. Plus, it’s not like we’re about to do water sports right now. We’re rectifying this monstrous situation.”

“What if I don’t want to watch it?”

She looks over her shoulder, smiling at me. “You don’t have a choice. We’re sharing a room, so you either watch it, or I have it on full blast while you’re trying to sleep. Take your pick.”

Love her determination. “Do we get to have a special drink with the popcorn?”

“What do you want?”

“An old classic Coke. And can we also get some M&M’s to go in the popcorn? Milly has ruined me with the sweet and salty combination.”

“Yes. But those are the only requests you get.”

“Fucking brutal.” I laugh, as she guides me the rest of the way to our room.





“I feel like I’m going to throw up, I’m so excited.” Natalie changed into her pajamas. This set is white with little red hearts all over them—super fucking adorable and short. Her hair is up in a bun, and her face is freshly washed, leaving a small tint of red where she scrubbed. She smells amazing from the quick rinse off she took in the shower, and her legs glisten under the dim lights from the lotion she applied.

How do I know she applied lotion? Because she did it in the living room while filling me in on everything I need to know about The Office. Apparently, the first season is a short season and it’s a little rough around the edges, whereas season two is where things really pick up, so I’m not allowed to judge the show based off season one.

It’s surprising I retained any of that after watching her hands smoothly run up and down her limber legs.

I took a quick shower after that and you can imagine what I also did in the shower—ahem, jacked off—and then quickly washed my body before joining Natalie on the “couch bed.” She ordered M&M’s to be brought to the room along with two Cokes and some ice. The popcorn was popped by the time I got out of the shower, and the bowls were ready.

Now that we’re both on the couch bed, pillows propping us up, her shoulder just inches from mine, I feel like I could throw up too, but for entirely different reasons.

It feels like we’re having a slumber party, but a sexy slumber party, one where all I can think about is what bra and underwear she’s wearing under her pajama set. The fabric is almost see-through. Pretty sure when she was packing she wasn’t expecting to have to share a room with me. I feel bad for the girl because growing up with Milly, I know all she liked to do when she got home was shed her bra. Doesn’t look like Natalie has the gall to do that. Maybe because I’d be able to see her nipples clear as day through the fabric.