“Fire. There was a fire. You don’t want to risk being naked with a fire,” I ramble on.
“Fires aren’t quite so common. I doubt such a thing happens two consecutive nights. Care to join me?”
“Period,” I remind him. “Still bleeding. Pouring out like a waterfall.”
Holy shit. I want a muzzle. Why can’t I have laryngitis instead of verbal diarrhea?
His lips twitch, but he merely slides in between the covers. However, he does not cover up that damn penis.
“Does your period keep you from getting in the bed?” he asks, amused. “Pretty sure sharks can’t climb the beach and come after you up here.”
He’s mocking me. Great. Now I’m the weirdo girl who is obsessed with talking about her period. And Jax Marshall is Mr. Cool who is laughing at me. I think his penis is even laughing.
“Relax, Bo,” he says as humor dances in his eyes. “It’s just a bed. We’ve slept together countless times, right? Slept together just last night.”
Yeah… But there wasn’t a penis staring at me last night.
Wait. No. Bora hasn’t spent the night with him. I know her rules.
My thoughts trail off as he adjusts on the bed. Holy shit. I’m gawking at that massive beast once again.
Life sucks.
He continues lying naked on my sheets, and I continue staring at his—Did that thing just jump?
“Bo?” he prompts, patting the bed beside him.
It’s just anatomy. It’s not like I’ve never seen one before.
Albeit, I’ve never seen one like that before. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated, but lying seems to be the new normal for me.
I’ve committed to the lie, and now… Now I’d look pathetic and extremely weird if I told him the truth.
I don’t know why, but I don’t want to seem pathetic. Pretty sure he’s already figured out the weird part, thanks to my stupid mouth and constant word vomit.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I grab my pajamas, go into the bathroom, spend much longer than necessary changing, and maybe I even pray he’s already asleep before I go back out.
But he’s not.
He’s watching me with a small smirk, and his fully erect appendage is still waving like a flag. How is it still hard?
Then… Then I’m pretty sure my knees buckle when he reaches down and strokes it right in front of me.
Strokes it.
From base to tip.
With his hand.
While he’s watching me.
That’s right, I can’t even put together proper sentences right now.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I stutter, barely stopping myself from falling to the floor.
“Enjoying my sexy view,” he tells me, biting his lip as he starts stroking himself a little harder, faster… Holy shit.
“Maybe I can’t fuck you, but I can watch you. And there are other ways to get each other off, you know?”