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34. Rough

Allison

Willow Creeks wrap party should’ve been the crowning highlight of my trip, a celebration of everything we’d accomplished over the past three days.

Instead, I spent the entirety of it replaying that afternoon in my head.

The memory of my kiss with Chris stayed with me through dessert, as did the phantom brush of his touch. With one zip of my dress, he’d awoken more heat in me than any of my previous partners had with actual sex.

I’d suppressed it during dinner, but the heat blossomed again as the bedroom door closed behind us.

We hadn’t spoken since dinner ended, but the mere anticipation of what could happen rasped against my skin as surely as a calloused touch.

The air hummed with breathlessness as Chris walked to the dresser, his lean, powerful form slicing through the darkness like a freshly honed blade through silk.

Blood roared in my ears and drowned out everything except my heartbeats and the soft rustle of his movements.

“You don’t have any other commitments tonig
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