Spring Break (Phoebe & Madsen Part 1) Page 2

  “I knew you’d understand, Phoebe. Plus, I really did plan on us rooming together. I’d like to actually sleep while we’re here and Duncan doesn’t really allow for that.”

  “And, I must again remind you that, best friend or not, he’s still my brother. I can’t listen to that kind of comment.”

  “Noted. But seriously, take this time to spend it with Madsen. Either flirt back with him or get over it, but use this week to figure it out. Get your nose out of your Kindle and live a little. Live out some of those fantasies you have and see what happens. You never know, maybe he’s your lobster.”

  “Yeah well, Madsen isn’t my anything except roommate for the next five days,” I non-committedly respond while glancing his way. Just as I do, he lifts his head and smiles.

  Dammit. I really do have to change my panties now.

  Again, I’ll deny this if anyone ever tells Duncan I uttered these words, but he was right. Dammit, I hate saying that even in my own head. When we were riding up in the elevator Duncan insisted we switch room keys. I began to question his reasoning, as I always do with Duncan, when Madsen snatched the key from his hands and thanked him. Unimpressed with the unspoken “bro code” conversation they shared, I take it all back as Madsen opens the door to our suite. Yep, Duncan had secured the only available suite in this hotel and handed it over to me. Well, us. Whatever.

  Since Duncan’s major is currently partying with a minor in slut, I assume he planned on hosting many parties in this room. Thankfully my newly admitted best friend, Kelsey, vetoed that idea and I am now the proud resident of a multi-room suite with an amazing view of the ocean.

  I should maybe clarify that Dunc’s major is technically Political Science with a minor in Business. But, in my defense, nobody would know that upon meeting him. Sadly, for Duncan, he is on the fast track to law school and to having his name added to our family’s law firm. Poor guy, his life was decided the minute he was born and the doctor looked at my dad speaking three simple words: “It’s a boy!” I think that’s why he parties so much now; he knows his days are numbered and the expectations are high.

  I, on the other hand, have limited expectation. All Dad has ever asked is that I don’t “embarrass the family by getting knocked up by some dumbass.” Done. Of course, Mom wants me to be my own woman, find my own path, and live a life full of passion. Not slutty sexy passion, but find what makes me happy and pursue it with passion. I may be struggling with that last part.

  Did I mention I have a little story-telling ADD? Yeah, maybe a smidge. Back to the suite.

  Off the small living room area with a balcony is a spacious bedroom with a massive king-size bed and yet another balcony. Score! I cannot wait to wake up to the sound of waves crashing tomorrow. I almost feel bad for stealing the wave-crashing wakeup until I remember that Madsen will have his own balcony to enjoy.

  Beyond the bedroom is a large bathroom complete with a multi-person shower and a Jacuzzi bathtub. Oh yeah, just you wait, bathtub, we’re going to have a lot of quality time together.

  Yes, I’m speaking to the tub. Until you’ve lived for four years in a dorm with communal showers, don’t judge my desire to communicate directly with a beautiful sunken-jetted Jacuzzi tub. Oh yeah, you read that right, dorms. Our parents refused to pay for us to live off campus. The only alternative to the dorms was Greek life and that’s not me. Duncan fits that bill but I’d rather eat sardines for the rest of my life than live in a house of cardigan-wearing girls. Yep, I stereotyped.

  “Now that’s a sexing tub.”

  “Jesus, Madsen! You scared the shit out of me! You can’t walk up on a girl like that.”

  “Who else is going to be here, Phoebe? Relax. You’re so jumpy.” Madsen wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and offers me that smile. The smile.” Do I make you jumpy, baby?”

  “Give the Austin Powers accent a rest. And no, you don’t make me jumpy nor do you make me horny.” Lies. A bed of lies is what I’m going to sleep on.

  “You said horny, not me. But you must admit, this is a sex tub. What do you say, Phoebes? Let’s give in to all the sexual tension and just go for it. Five days of the best sex you’ll ever have.”

  “I, uh…” My words are jumbled and suddenly I am unable to link a complete sentence together. Is he serious? He can’t be. And he’s laughing.

  “I’m kidding, relax. You’d think I just asked you to go drown kittens or something. I didn’t realize the idea of having sex with me was so horrifying.”

  “Kittens? Why would you want to drown kittens? You’re a sick bastard. God, you infuriate me.” My words don’t have as much aggression as I want so, naturally, I stomp my foot and grunt as I storm out of the room.

  “Whatever, I’m meeting Duncan and Kelsey at the pool bar in twenty. Are ya coming or are you going to lock yourself up and figure out twenty different ways to be a bitch to me?”

  “I am not a bitch! Just … ugh! Just stop talking to me,” I grumble while flopping myself on the bed, throwing my arm across my eyes dramatically. I feel the mattress move as Madsen sits on the bed close to where I lay.

  “Whoa there, jumps to conclusions, drama queen much? I didn’t say you were a bitch, I asked if you were going to figure out how to be one. Chill.”

  Madsen nudges my side and it does nothing to diffuse me. I can be a little hot tempered and sometimes dramatic. I have a feeling this is one of those times. The close proximity to him is throwing me off my game.

  “Phoebe,” he urges while reaching for my wrist and attempting to pull my arm from my face. No way, sucker! “I know we aren’t the best of friends but we are roommates for the next few days. Can we just call a truce?”

  Pulling my arm down but leaving my eyes closed, I don’t answer Madsen immediately. Fine, he’s right. Dammit, I hate admitting that either he or Duncan is right. Pretending they are both jackasses is much easier. I slowly open my eyes and leave my gaze to the ceiling. Oh, a ceiling fan. Nice.

  “Fine, I’ll agree to a truce but that doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

  “Of course not,” he sniggers.

  “And, I have a few requests,” I say, turning my head toward Madsen but not moving another part of my body. I note that his gaze is currently on the hemline of my dress and not my face. I clear my throat, which causes him to startle and quickly deflect his attention to my face.

  “First, no more sexual innuendos. And, if you plan on bringing a girl back here, give me a head’s up so I can close the door and put in my earbuds.”

  “Why would I bring a girl back here? Unless you’re interested in a threesome, which by the way I’m totally okay with, there isn’t much room in this bed for a third person.”

  “What? You are not sleeping in this bed.”

  “Of course I am.”

  Oh hell to the no. I jump up from where I’m lying on the bed to stand in front of Madsen. Taking a stance that I hope says “I mean business” and doesn’t instead draw attention to my apple bottom – no boots and no fur – I glare at him. My eyes squint as I bite my bottom lip. He mimics my squint and lip bite. Damn that mouth of his. I really am a hot fucking mess.

  “You are so not sleeping in this bed with me. You, you can sleep on that comfy-looking couch out in the living room.”

  Madsen stands up before me. Fortunately for me, I’m on the taller side and wearing wedges, so I don’t have to look up at him to see the look on his face. His eyes are dancing with mischief and his tongue darts between his lips, moving at a snail’s pace across the bottom. The lip that really needs to be bitten. I know he is aware of me watching each movement his tongue makes because the left side of his mouth lifts into a smirk and his eyes crinkle just enough that I return the look.

  “I am easily two feet longer than that little mini couch out there,” he says, gesturing toward the bedroom door. “I am going to sleep in here, in this bed with you, and you are not going to make a production out of it.”

  “But,” I begin to interrupt, but he stops me wi
th a finger to my bottom lip.

  “If you do, you know that your brother is going to mock you and Kelsey is going to think it’s because you want to live out your, shall we say, cowgirl fantasy.”

  I gasp at his last statement and watch as he walks over to his duffel, unzips it, and grabs a pair of trunks before disappearing into the bathroom. I am a fan of cowgirl, well reverse cowgirl specifically, and have had a few fantasies. There is no way on this green earth that he knows that.

  Or does he?

  Shit.

  I didn’t go down to the pool with Madsen. I couldn’t do it. I was so self-conscious after his little reference to “cowgirl” and, frankly, a little turned on. I took the opportunity instead to unpack, take a bubble bath, and take care of some business I expect I won’t have an opportunity for during this trip.

  I know, I know. I sound a little slutty. Or maybe just desperate.

  I’m not.

  I’m twenty-one years old, single, and perhaps a little horny. Fine, a lot horny. Sue me. I like sex and when I’m stressed or feel anxious a quick orgasm relaxes me. I don’t even want to know what Dr. Freud would have to say about that but, it’s true.

  Besides, it isn’t as if I’m out banging every dude I encounter. I do have self-respect and standards. But, a girl has to do what she has to do. Instead of banging half the football team, I choose instead to handle things myself.

  I don’t know why masturbation is so taboo, everyone does it. Besides, guys get high fives and slaps on the back for slappin’ the salami. Why can’t a girl get the same acknowledgement when she daddles her diddle? No, instead she’s looked at like there’s something wrong with her. Double standard, anyone?

  Clearly, I’m hungry with all the food references. Which is why I now find myself singing along to one of my favorite songs instead of napping or reading a book. I continue to sway my hips to the beat as I finish tying the strings to my bikini bottoms and not taking a nap or reading. I need to get downstairs and find food.

  While this bathroom has a great Jacuzzi tub – trust me, it’s fantastic - the lighting is crap. Hey, hotel bathroom, 1980 called and wants their fluorescent lighting back. But, the huge mirror has allowed for me to fully assess the bikini situation and confirm my waxing was handled properly.

  Thankfully I’m familiar with this bikini; I own three of them. Like I said, fair complexion, freckles, and strawberry-blonde hair. It’s a habit I started when I was sixteen and found the perfect cashmere sweater. I bought four. And then, I wore that thing to death. Of course, the asshole kids I went to school with and their leader, my dipshit brother Duncan, mocked me, but I loved it. So now, when I find something that fits perfect or is the perfect color, I buy three. Nobody is mocking me now! Sorry, I get carried away. And off point.

  Kelsey mocks me when we shop but she doesn’t have my struggle. It’s real. Plus, she’s dating the aforementioned dipshit so really joke’s on her. I can only hope he is successful in a way he rarely is - proving me wrong. If he manages that feat, I hope he also makes Kelsey my sister. It’s the least he can do. Pink taffeta dress future and all.

  So, this bathing suit. This suit is my favorite. I have quite the bathing suit collection, and while a few are more risqué and, of course, there is that one more conservative one-piece, this one, she’s perfection. The deepest garnet red that complements my ivory skin perfectly, and the cut is perfect for my curves and large chest. If you look close enough, you see that the fabric has an intricate pattern. I love it.

  Once I’ve confirmed the strings are secure, I survey my cover-up options. Before I’m able to choose, my phone signals a text message.

  Kelsey: Where R U?

  Me: I’ll be down in 10.

  Kelsey: Hurry!

  Kelsey: You need to catch up

  Kelsey: I think I’m drunk.

  Me: 10 minutes ☺

  I set my phone down and look again at my cover-up options. A maxi skirt that, if necessary, I can pull up to a strapless dress or a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank. I hold each option up to myself in the mirror when my phone signals another text message. Yep, she’s drunk.

  Madsen: Need help getting dressed?

  Dick.

  Me: I think I can handle it.

  Madsen: I’m really good with my hands.

  Me: What did I say about the innuendos?

  Madsen: Oh baby, these aren’t innuendos. This is good old fashioned flirting.

  Me: Well stop, it’s embarrassing.

  Me: For you

  Madsen: I’m pretty sure you do need help if you’re going to stand there in that hot as fuck bikini and not come downstairs.

  What the? I slowly look up to the mirror to find Madsen standing in the doorway. My eyes slowly take in the sight before me. Sure, this is the guy who makes me want to pull my hair out regularly and the same guy who has teased and poked at me along with my brother for four years. But, standing here in the doorway only steps away from me, he’s more of a cover model than anything.

  Wearing only black swim trunks and a pair of aviators on his head, Madsen is a piece of chiseled perfection. My eyes follow his body from his toned legs up to his rippling abs and delectable pecs. I pause long enough to tick off how long his neck is with the tempo of my pulse before resting on his mouth. His mouth can spew the crudest comments and tease me while simultaneously turning me on. It’s overly annoying. But, damn if that mouth doesn’t harbor a tongue that, if the rumors are true, will send a girl to another dimension.

  Every inch of him is what book boyfriends are made of.

  Holy fuck me right here on the floor.

  The moment my eyes meet his, all oxygen is sucked from my lungs. The tightness in my chest borders anxiousness. Madsen and I have always had sexual tension between us, but right now, in this moment with us barely clothed and alone, this is more than tension. This is an all-consuming raw moment of desire. I can feel that matching desire between my legs and, suddenly, the orgasm I had an hour ago is a mere memory.

  “Wha,” I sputter before clearing my throat and tossing the shorts and tank to the side and pulling the maxi on. I tap my phone to turn off the music I was listening to before composing myself enough to speak. “What are you doing up here?”

  “Well, your brother and Kelsey are about two drinks from getting us kicked out of the bar for indecent exposure. I came up to grab a shirt and see what was taking you so long. I’m glad I did.”

  I recognize that look on Madsen’s face; it’s one of mischief, cockiness, and sex. In a nutshell, it’s all Madsen Secksin. I will not flirt back. I will not put myself in a position where, well, where we’re trying out any position. Madsen Secksin is the one guy in this world with the ability to ruin me for other guys. I don’t want to be ruined; I want to be loved and worshiped.

  In response to his comment I pivot toward the mirror again and gather a hair tie and lip gloss before tossing them in my oversized purse along with my phone. Two deep cleansing breaths later and I turn to face Madsen, who hasn’t moved from the doorway.

  “I was getting ready and you could have just texted me that you needed a shirt. I’m starving; maybe we should go get food and then go from there. Unless you already met someone and need the room. Living room.”

  “Oh, I met someone, but I don’t think we’re going to need the room just yet. She’s a little skittish, it seems. Let’s go get food. I’m starved and could eat a cow.”

  I curtly nod in response. Full disclosure here, knowing he’s met someone is a little bit of a letdown. As much as I don’t want to hook up with Madsen, I get a little bitchy thinking of him hooking up with someone else. I walk past Madsen into the bedroom, finding my sandals before slipping them on. Surprisingly Madsen says nothing else, and when I reach the door and look over my shoulder to see if he’s following, my mouth instantly dries. My heart falls. To my stomach.

  Madsen is pulling a collared shirt over his head and, in doing so, his abs dance like waves in the ocean. Very tanned, oiled-up, sexy
waves.

  I’m royally screwed.

  Or going to get screwed.

  The enormous amount of food we consumed this afternoon would horrify my mother. She wouldn’t care that not a bean nor a grain of rice remained on a plate. She’d lecture me on eating large portions in front of men and oh gasp! What will men think if they see me eating like that? They’ll think I was freaking hungry and hadn’t eaten since we left for the airport at dark thirty this morning, that’s what.

  I wasn’t alone in my endeavor. The four of us devoured every single enchilada, fajita, and chip in sight. Of course, now Duncan and Kelsey are sobering up and require a nap.

  I wave the happy couple off and head for the pool area. There isn’t much afternoon left, but enough for me to enjoy a margarita by the pool and finish the book I’m reading. After locating a lounge chair away from the actual pool, I set my bag down and pull my Kindle out before ordering a drink from the waiter.

  It is clear from the disarray of the pool deck that the party was going full force earlier. I imagine I’m here during the lull before the next round of partying starts. Thank goodness. I sound like a horrible college student, I know. I love to party and have a good time, but it’s day one of five. Pacing my good times is equally as important.

  The waiter returns with my drink and I am pleased to see the extra salt on the rim. Before I take a sip of the margarita, I make sure to lick a generous amount of the salt before I savor the tart concoction as it hits each taste bud. This is a damn good margarita. I spy the waiter across the pool and once he makes eye contact, raise my glass for another margarita and hopefully he understands awkward hand gestures as a request for a water.

  “I knew you hadn’t left all of your fun at school.”

  “Jesus! Madsen. I already told you to stop sneaking up on me,” I scold as I wipe off the spilled margarita from my leg. As I do, Madsen’s finger traces the spill and I watch as he lifts it to his mouth. Is this guy for fucking real?