Page 4 of Can't Text This

He obliges.

“Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t, and I ignite.

There’s no other way to describe it. I unravel beneath him, legs quaking, breath stuttered, eyes rolling into the back of my head.

I’ve read about this in those magazines my sister reads, heard it’s the most euphoric feeling in the world…and they weren’t wrong.

I cling to Robbie as I come down from the high, my breathing returning to normal, his fingers still languidly stroking my clit.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“I’m…”

A pounding against the door yanks me out of the haze and clears my foggy brain in an instant.

Oh god.

What have I done? I’m in apublicrestroom with astranger! I just let him…let him…do dirty things to me!

My heart’s racing, this time for all the wrong reasons, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.

I push at the big wall of muscle blocking me in, and he moves out of my way as I hop off the counter, frowning at me.

“Monty?”

“I… This… We…” I huff, annoyed with myself for not being able to get the words out. “I cannot believe I just let you do…that!”

He smirks, and I hate how sexy it looks on him. He takes two steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my face. I gasp at the touch, and it makes me so mad that I react at all.

His lips brush against my ear. “Touch you, Monty. I touched you. I put my fingers inside you and rubbed your sweet little clit until you came undone beneath me. That’s what I did.” He trails his lips along my face until they’re resting against my mouth and he’s kissing me all over again.

And I let him. I let him consume me, take control, and move his lips over mine in whatever way he pleases. I don’t know what’s come over me, and in this very moment I don’t care.

Until another loud knock sounds on the door.

“No. This isn’t me. You…you don’t understand.” I laugh humorlessly. “How could you? You’re a stranger.”

He lets out an irritated sigh, and I can’t blame the guy. I got my rocks off but he’s still standing there with a boner. “I thought we discussed this already.”

“We did…but I just…I can’t. This isn’t me.”

“You keep saying that. What does it mean?”

I wave a hand down my body. “See this? See my outfit? Does this screambathroom sexto you?”

His hard eyes rake over me and I can feel the heat licking my skin.

It’s a slow perusal from head to toe. He scans over my freckled face that perfectly complements my long red hair, my black cashmere sweater with the white shirt underneath, the knee-length floral skirt I’m wearing, right down to my perfect white Keds.

I don’t look like I belong in this bathroom, let alone this bar, not with someone like him, and we both know it.

He doesn’t say anything, and I take that as my cue to leave.

I hastily straighten my clothes and spin toward the counter, looking for the cross-body purse I was wearing when we rushed in here. I glance in the mirror and regret it.

My lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy, and my red hair is a complete mess.

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