Page 25 of One Summer Weekend
“I guess we should get back.” Reluctance was heavy in his voice, and she felt the echo in her heart. She didn’t want to go, either, but they had to. And she wasn’t lying about getting cold.
Once he was back on his feet, Noah picked up his shirt and shook it out before pulling it over his head.
“You’ve still got sand in your hair,” she said, trying not to laugh. “And on your shirt.”
“And you’ve got damp spots on your knees,” he told her, and hedidlaugh.
She tried brushing her knees off, but getting rid of the sand did nothing to dry the denim.
“We’re not staying long,” he said. “As soon as it’s polite, we’re leaving and I’m taking you to bed.”
“You’re worried about being polite after sneaking away to very obviously get a blow job?”
He laughed. “I guess they won’t be too surprised when we sneak away again, then, will they?”
“You sure you’re going to be up to it?”
He stopped walking to look at her with a slow grin. “That sounds like a challenge and you’re damn right I’ll be up to it.”
Chapter Eight
We have to go home today.
It was the first conscious thought Noah had and it ruined the entire day before he’d even opened his eyes.
Once they got dressed, checked out and headed his truck in an off-Cape direction, the pretense would be over. Carly wouldn’t be his fake girlfriend anymore and what had happened on Cape Cod would stay on Cape Cod.
Hewanted to stay on the Cape. With her.
“Coffee,” Carly muttered.
“It’s your turn,” he muttered back.
“Oh shit. You didn’t set the alarm?”
“I was a little distracted last night.” He’d been alotdistracted, actually, and he didn’t regret a single second of it.
“We have to check out in forty-five minutes.”
“We don’t have to check out until eleven.”
“It’s ten-fifteen.”
“Oh shit.” He sat upright, looking at the clock. “It’s ten-fifteen.”
She slapped his arm. “I can tell time, thank you very much.”
Forty-five minutes sounded like a lot of time until you were helping a woman pack up the astounding amount of crap she’d managed to strew from one end of the room to the other in only two days. And he was pretty sure everything had multiplied, too, because it seemed like there was a lot more to pack than what they’d unpacked on Friday.
And thinking about unpacking made him think about that black lace and he didn’t have time to think about black lace right now. Plus, he needed to stop thinking about Carly’s bras at all, because they were going home and she was going to be just-Carly again. Thinking about your best friend’s underwear was weird.
The sound of the door closing behind them with a thud was depressing, as was the elevator ride down because even though he really wanted to, he didn’t touch her butt this time. He might as well start breaking the habit now because he wasn’t going to get to touch her butt anymore.
She sighed deeply when the elevator settled on the first floor, and he wondered if she was feeling the same emotions he was. Maybe she liked him touching her butt and kissing her and getting his hands on her lacy underwear—and under it. But before he could work up the nerve to broach the subject, the doors opened and she stepped out. He decided to keep his mouth shut and follow her to the lobby.
Carly paused at the portrait of the ship’s captain and his wife with the enigmatic smile. “I guess I was right about this place having a good vibe.”
He’d certainly had one of the best weekends of his life under this roof, and it was pretty obvious Carly had a good time, as well. This was a good time for him to come up with a decent segue into asking her just how good a time she’d had and whether she thought maybe what they had was worth exploring a little more, but he couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth.
