The Two Week Stand by Samantha Towle

eleven

Dillon

I can hear the wash of the waves and the low hum of the air-conditioning that’s keeping me cool on this hot Maldivian night.

I should be sleeping.

Obviously, I’m not.

I can’t stop thinking about what West said to me earlier. I’ve thought of nothing else since. I thought of it all the way through dinner. Which I saw him at. But he was coming in as I was leaving to come back to my villa.

But seriously, I mean, who could sleep after hearing that?

Sex for two weeks, no strings.

I mean, firstly, a guy who looks like that wants to have sex with me. Um … best thing ever. My confidence is at an all-time high right now.

But …

And it’s a big but.

I’m fresh off heartbreak. And not the run-of-the-mill heartbreak. Ultimate betrayal. The Jerry Springer Show kind of betrayal.

If I’m being totally honest with myself, yes, I was hurt by what Tim did and the demise of our relationship. I thought I’d loved him. I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if I didn’t think that. But now, looking back, I know that I was more in love with the idea of him and what he could give me—a family, security, love, happiness. All the things I’d never had, growing up.

I’ve never felt loved by my mum. We’ve never felt like a family. The only family I had growing up was my grandparents and my aunt Jenny. They’re my dad’s family. So, of course, Mum used me as a tool to get whatever she wanted from them. Which was almost always money.

She is a shitty parent.

But all of that aside, I am most hurt by her betrayal. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d spent my whole life finding ways to screw me over.

But even still, all the things she’s done over the years … the hurtful words she spat at me, the blows to my confidence she gave me, the friendships of mine she ruined … I never thought she would go as low as to sleep with my fiancé.

It hurts like hell when the one person who is supposed to love you and have your back stabs you in it.

So, yeah, getting involved with West might not be the best idea.

Sure, I’ve had one-night stands before. I did go to university.

But when I hooked up with those guys, I wasn’t putting the pieces of my broken heart back together. And I wasn’t currently on my honeymoon, alone.

My head is a mess. I mean, it’s only been a few weeks since I found out about their affair.

West is only offering a couple of weeks.

And it is only sex. I mean, we don’t even live on the same continent, for God’s sake. It’s not like I’ll see him again after this, and knowing that, there’s no way I’ll get attached to him.

And really, how attached could I get to someone in such a short period of time? I know West won’t get attached to me. He made that abundantly clear. Attachments are not his thing.

Why the hell am I making this into such a big deal? Why am I even thinking this through?

It would just be sex with a really, really good-looking guy. A holiday fling. People have them all the time. We’re only here for two weeks, and truthfully, it would be nice to not feel so shitty about myself.

Having sex makes you feel good. Great in fact. Especially when done with the right person who knows what they’re doing, and if West does sex as well as he talks about it, then I would be in for one hell of a fan-fucking-tastic time.

I’ll get to have a couple of weeks of great sex and then leave the island, high off all the sex we’ll have had, and I’ll be happy as a pig in shit. And I’ll take that feeling back home with me. I’ll be able to wear the good sex feelings that West will have given to me like an armor to protect myself from the reality that’s waiting at home for me.

And they do say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. I’m not exactly sure who they are, but if it is the right way to get over heartbreak, then who better to get under than West?

So, I can lie here, lamenting over my crappy life, or I can go have sex with the hot American.

Hmm. Tough choice.

I sit up and slide my legs over the side of the bed.

But …

What if I do start to like him? What if I get attached and when it’s time to say good-bye, I’m sad, and I have no good feelings to take back home with me? Just more sadness.

I could get hurt again.

But could I possibly get any more hurt than I already have been?I highly doubt it. Some guy I just met isn’t going to hurt my heart as much as my own mother did.

God, why am I such an overthinker? Why can’t I just take a chance and have some fun with a gorgeous guy who is offering me orgasms? Well, I hope that’s what he’s offering.

Shit.

What if he’s really bad at sex?I mean, I’ve seen the morning wood that was straining against his shorts, but just because he’s got a big dick doesn’t mean he knows how to use it. Or how to give a woman an orgasm.

Tim couldn’t find my clit with a torch and a map. Seriously. I had to give him directions every time.

West could be just as clueless. A totally selfish lover.

But I won’t know this unless I have sex with him.

I could just have sex with him once. I don’t have to commit to anything.

Argh! For fuck’s sake.

I’m doing my own head in.

Why did he have to proposition me like that anyway? I mean, who does that?

Maybe it’s an American thing. Back home, a guy usually just hits on you in a bar, flirts a bit. Maybe you end up kissing, and then he asks you back to his place.

West laid it out like a transaction. I was half-expecting him to give me a contract to sign to say that I understood his terms of service.

It wasn’t the sexiest thing.

But the way he talks so openly about what he wants … me. Jesus, so fucking hot.

But no, it’s not a good idea.

No matter how hot he is, it’s just not a good idea for me to get tangled up with another guy so soon. I came here to get some space and give me time to clear my head. Not to get serviced by Captain America over there.

No. I’m gonna have to decline his offer.

In a year’s time, I’ll probably want to punch myself in the face for my stupidity at turning down sex with West, but I know it’s the right thing. I’m just not in the right place in my life right now.

Now, I just have to tell him.

I bite my lip, thinking.

I should wait until morning. It is just past midnight. But I know me. I’ll only lie here all night, chewing over it, and I won’t get a wink of sleep.

And he might still be awake. Or asleep.

But I won’t know that unless I go over there.

Okay.

I stand up.

I’ll go over there now. Knock on his door. If he doesn’t answer, then I know he’s sleeping, and I’ll just wait until morning to tell him. And if he answers, then I’ll tell him that I’ve thought it over and I have to say no.

See, easy.

I stride over to the door and open it.

Then, I stop, run back, and grab my key off the table. Don’t want to lock myself out again. The sliding doors are closed and locked, so there’d be no getting back in that way. And honestly, I wouldn’t fancy wading through the lagoon in the pitch-dark. Knowing my luck, a shark would come along and bite my fucking leg off. No way would I want to walk to reception in the dark in my pajamas either. And sleeping in West’s villa again would be a no-no after telling him that I don’t want to be in a fling with him for the next couple of weeks.

Actually, should I change out of my pajamas? Is it a bit weird, going over there, wearing them?

Honestly, I don’t know why I’m worrying about this. The guy saw me in my ugly bra and panties yesterday. My Primark pajamas aren’t going to faze him.

And I’m not trying to impress him anyway.

Okay. Maybe I am a teeny-tiny bit.

Fluffing my hair, I walk out into the night and close the door behind me, locking it.

I walk down from my villa onto the jetty and pause to look at the night sky. It’s so clear, no smog here. I can see every star in the sky. It’s beautiful. All those other worlds out there.

I wonder if there’s some female alien on some other planet, going through the same thing I am right now.

Trying to fix her broken heart after the worst betrayal. And currently going to turn down sex with the hottest man alive. Or hottest alien alive in her case.

You know, I’m so glad that no one can hear my thoughts because I’m really fucking weird at times.

Sighing, I look over at West’s villa and walk over to it.

When I reach the door, I lift my hand and knock. Not too loudly. But loud enough that if he’s awake, he’ll hear me.

I hear movement inside, and my stomach takes a dive south.

Even though I want this over with, I’m really nervous now.

The door swings open, and West is standing there.

In boxer shorts.

That’s it.

There’s inch upon inch of his golden-tanned skin on show. And I know I’ve already seen him in a similar state of undress before, but it seems to do nothing to dull my reaction to the way he looks now. To that body of his. His hair is down, kissing his shoulders. He looks gorgeous.

My mouth dries, and all words fail me.

Those abs are gonna be the death of me.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. I’m just staring at him.

“Dillon?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What can I do for you?”

“Oh.” I blink. It doesn’t help. I just go straight back to staring at him like a sex-starved nympho. “I was, uh, thinking about what you said.”

He leans a shoulder against the doorframe. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

And … what was I supposed to be coming over here to tell him? I forgot.

No. I’m supposed to tell him no to all the sex.

But just look at him. He’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of sexual experience. Something to tell the grandkids about. Or not because that’d be gross. But when I’m home and alone in bed, I’d have those memories to keep me warm at night.

But it’s not a good idea, Dillon. Remember, you could get hurt again.

Hurt is bad.

But sex is soooo good.

No. Stop it. Stop thinking about the sex and how big his cock might be and how good it would feel inside you. Or how that sexy mouth of his might taste or if his muscles would feel as hard as they look.

Just say no to all of the sex with the hot American man. Say no and turn and walk back to your villa. And then get a cold shower.

Right. I’m gonna do it.

“And … well, I thought it over, and it’s a … yes.”