The Two Week Stand by Samantha Towle

eighteen

Dillon

As beautiful and relaxing as the island is, there’s not bucketloads to do. It really is a place for relaxation. I spend most of my time on the beach. Bonus is that my tan is killer. There is a spa, which I do want to go to, to have a facial and massage, which I need to book. Of course, there’s snorkeling and scuba diving—the former I’m not sure I ever want to do again and the latter I know I never, ever want to do.

West is all about the water and exercise. He spends a lot of time in the gym, toning those muscles of his. Running on the beach. Shirtless.

Honestly, when he goes running along the beach, which is usually mid-morning when most of the women on the island are sunbathing out on the beach, it’s like a cacophony of ovaries exploding as he passes them by.

These women might be married or coupled up and happy, but they ain’t dead.

And me … well, I just sit there and watch him with a massive smile on my face and usually a cocktail in my hand, knowing that I get to spend the rest of my days here on this island kissing and licking that body and taking his big dick inside of me.

Currently though, there’s no beach because it’s raining. But honestly, it’s welcome.

I’ve been ridiculously hot since I arrived here, and this is the first time I’m actually feeling a sense of coolness without having to have the air con blasting in the villa.

West is here at my place, and we’re sitting outside on the deck, close to the doors, under the cover of the awning. The rain is pelting down, and we’re playing rummy.

West had a deck at his place. He also brought over his stock of alcohol and snacks from his mini fridge, and along with mine, we have a little beer, wine, and snack fest going on.

So far, we’ve played two games of rummy. I won the first. He won the second. This third game is the decider. And I have to win.

Have to.

I grab a handful of Haribo gummy bears and toss them in my mouth.

I notice West staring at me as I chew.

“What?” I ask, curling my tongue around a bit of a gummy bear that’s gotten stuck in my back tooth.

“Nothing.”

“So, why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“With that furrow in your brow. Total concentration. Hey … you’re not trying to read my mind, are you? Find out what cards are in my hand?” I raise a brow.

“Yes, Double D,” he deadpans, “that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Knew it!” I pop the gummy bear piece out of my tooth and then grab another handful from the bag. “Cheater, cheater, compulsive eater,” I sing, and then I toss the handful of gummy bears into my mouth.

I chew on them and stare down at my cards.

When I look back up, he’s staring at me again.

“You’re staring again.”

His lips quirk at one side into a sexy smirk. “Fine. I like watching you. You’re nice to look at. And I especially like watching you put something in your mouth. Preferably my cock. But the gummy bear will do. For now.”

For now. I’d say I love his confidence. But it’s warranted. Because he’s right. There’s a hundred percent chance that his dick will be inside of my mouth at some point tonight.

But I definitely won’t be chewing on that.

“That’s weird. But kinda hot.”

“I know. And it’s your turn.”

Sighing, I pick up a card.

For crying out loud.Not one I need. I dump it back on the pile.

“So, have you used the bath in your villa?” I ask him.

I’ve been here a week and still not used it yet. I can’t believe it’s been a week. It’s flown by. You can bet your sweet arse if I’d been here alone and miserable, that time would have dragged. But because I’m with West, having lots of sex and fun, it’s flying by.

One week gone. One week left.

“Nope, not used it. You used yours?”

“Nope.” I pick my wineglass up and take a sip.

West picks up the card I just put down and then lays one of his cards down.

Not one I need. Ugh.

“I want to though before I leave. I mean, when else will I get the chance to have a bath outside, where no one can see me and I get to see the view of the ocean from the tub?”

I pick up another card from the deck. Ooh, I can use this one. I ditch one of my useless cards onto the stack.

“We should take a bath. Together,” West says to me.

“When?”

“Now.”

“Now?” I frown. “But it’s still raining. And we’re in the middle of a deciding game here, in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget.” He picks up a card from the pack. “We’re taking a bath, Dillon.” He glances out at the rain. “I reckon it’s gonna stop soon anyway.”

I kid you not; it’s like the clouds themselves are listening to him and are willing to give him what he wants because it stops raining not even a minute later.

I stare at him and then at the outside, where the sun has come out to play. Then back at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you could actually control the weather.”

He grins. “Maybe I can.” He drops a card on the stack. “Now, go run that bath because rummy,” he says, laying his cards down.

Motherfucker.

He won.

He bloody fucking won.

Ugh!

I stand up, tossing my cards on the table between us. “I can’t believe you won,” I huff. “Stupid fucking game anyway.”

I stomp away from him in the direction of the bathtub to the sound of his low chuckle.

I can’t believe he won again. I always win when I play cards.

Well, we’re definitely having a rematch because I’m not leaving it there.

I turn on the bath taps and pop the plug in. Testing the hot water, I go in and grab the complimentary bubble bath. I pour some under the running water. It smells divine. So, I pour a little more in.

I love lots of bubbles in the bath.

I’m standing, watching the bath fill, when the sound of West’s voice turns me around.

“Have you stopped sulking yet?” He steps out of the bathroom to join me on the concealed deck, where the bathtub sits, and hands me my refilled glass of wine.

I take it from him and toss some wine back. “I wasn’t sulking,” I mutter.

“Uh-huh.”

“Losing doesn’t bother me. At all.”

“Okay.”

“I just know I can play that game well and—”

“Dillon.”

“What?”

He plants his lips on mine, kissing me, stealing all words and thoughts from me.

“Hmm,” he murmurs against my lips. “You taste sweet from those gummy bears.”

“I taste sweet because I am sweet.”

West takes the glass of wine from my hand and sets it down on the ledge beside the bath along with his bottle of beer.

Then, he reaches a hand back and pulls his T-shirt over his head in one swift move. His shorts are next to go.

Of course, I’m standing and watching the show.

Because wowsers.

Honestly, I think I could be with this guy a lifetime and still never get used to how he looks naked.

Not that I have a lifetime with him. Just one more week.

“You’re naked,” I stupidly say as he’s tying his hair back.

A chuckle. “Not totally naked.” He gestures to his boxer shorts. “But I am about to get in the bath, and usually, nakedness accompanies that.”

“True.”

“You, however, are still fully clothed.”

“How many hours in the gym did it take to get those abs?” I haven’t taken my eyes off his abs. They’re like the sun. You just have to look, even knowing you’ll get retinal burns.

“A lot.”

“I have honestly never seen abs like yours in real life. They’re amazing.”

A deep laugh rumbles in his chest. “Your honesty is good for my ego.”

I lift my eyes to his. “Seriously. I have never seen a body like yours outside of television.”

“I’ve never seen a body like yours.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I laugh. “Unless you’re calling me fat?” I tease.

“Definitely not calling you fat. And I’m serious, Dillon. You’re fucking beautiful. You know that, right?”

I don’t say anything because I don’t know. When I look in the mirror, I see how much I look like my mother. My eyes, nose, chin, hair … all her. We get told all the time that we could be sisters. My mum, of course, loves that.

I know she’s beautiful.

But when I look at myself in the mirror, it’s not beauty I see. I just see a really sad girl who wants more than anything for her mother, who she looks so much like, to love her.

West takes my silence and reads it well. “Well, you should know. Because you are fucking stunning.”

I lick my dry lips. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you’ve known a lot of beautiful women.”

“I have. But like I said, none quite like you.”

Sometimes, his honesty is hard to hear, and it’s this exact moment that it bugs me most. I feel irrational jealousy at the other women he’s been with. It’s stupid, I know. It’s not like I don’t know he’s been with other women. That he’ll be with other women after me. But it’s there all the same.

I shove it down. Deep down inside of me to deal with later.

“And … is that a good thing?” I ask him. “That I’m different?”

He stares at me. His expression impossible to read. Then, he says, “Very.”

That one single word lights a spark inside of my chest that I’m not sure I know how to put out.

But I have to. Because I can’t get attached to him.

“Bath’s getting full.” I busy myself with turning the taps off and testing the water with my hand. “Temperature is perfect,” I tell him. “You can get in if you want.”

West shoves his boxers down over his hips and climbs into the tub. Sitting back, he rests his arms on the edges of the bath.

I pull my tank top off and remove my shorts. I’m wearing a bikini underneath.

Usually, I have zero problems with getting naked in front of West. But after that conversation, I’m fully exposed. A bit vulnerable.

“I need to tie my hair up. Just gonna grab a hairband.” I nip into the bathroom, thankful for the moment alone to gather myself. I grab a scrunchie and tie my hair into a messy bun, so it doesn’t get wet in the bath.

Then, I suck it up and go back outside.

West’s eyes come to me the moment I step through the doorway.

This moment feels etched in tension, and I know it’s because of me. Because I’m feeling weird. I’m being weird. I need to quit with this shit.

I know how this thing with us ends—with him flying back to America and me to England—and that’s in a week.

Reaching back, I pull the string tie on my bikini and the one around my neck. Catching it in my hand, I push my bikini bottoms down my legs and leave both items on the floor.

I walk over to the bath. West bends and parts his legs, so I can get in. I step into the bath and turn, putting my back to him, and sit down in the space between his legs. West tugs me back, bringing me to rest against his chest.

“You okay?” he asks me.

“Yeah.” I tip my head back and look at him. “I’m okay.”

He smiles and kisses me. “Good.” He reaches over and gets my wine, passing it to me before getting his own beer.

The hand not holding his beer rests against my stomach. His fingers start drawing circles over my skin. He’s always touching me, and I really like it. It makes me wonder if he’s naturally a tactile person or if he’s just like this with me.

And I really shouldn’t be thinking things like that. God, what is going on with me today?

“This is nice,” he murmurs. “I never get baths back home.”

“You not have a tub?” I ask.

“I do. But I never use it. Always just get a shower. Quicker. But this, sitting here with you, it’s nice. Obviously, the best part is that you’re naked and wet and your sweet ass is pressed up against my dick.”

“Obviously.”

“I have a question,” he says a moment later.

“That I might or might not answer.”

“You’ll answer.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I do.”

“Okay. Go ahead with your question.”

“So, I’ve been sitting here for a good few minutes, tickling your stomach, and you haven’t so much as twitched.”

“I’m not ticklish.”

“Told you you’d answer—and before I even asked the question.”

Fucker.“Ugh. Whatever.”

“Seriously though, how are you not ticklish? Everyone is.”

“Not me.” I shrug and take a sip of my wine.

“Maybe I should try tickling you harder.”

“You could try. But you’ll get nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“So weird.”

“Also awesome.”

“No. Just weird. You’re a freak of nature, Double D. You know that?”

“Yep. And I wear my freak badge proudly.”

“As you should. Lucky for you, I happen to quite like freaks.”

I tilt my head back and look at him, my blues tangling up with his grays, and I feel this tug in my chest that I force myself to ignore.

I push a smile onto my lips. “Well, luckily for you, I like freaks too.”

His lips tip up into a sexy grin. “Then, it’s a good thing we met each other.”

And it is. For sure.

If only I could get my pesky heart to stop getting ideas around him … then everything would be perfect.

For the next seven days, of course.