The Bathroom
SARAH
I headed straight for the restroom, heart pounding. The man wearing a cap was nowhere in sight, no sign of Cullen in the hallway either. I slipped inside the women’s restroom, scanning the stalls and sinks, but he wasn’t there. Of course. How could I have thought he’d be in the women’s restroom?
Still, my stubbornness and determination pushed me forward. Without hesitation, I walked over to the men’s restroom.
And there he was. With his back turned to me, still wearing that cap. Even if he’d taken it off, I would’ve recognised him anywhere.
“Cullen,” I called softly.
He turned, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You saw me,” he said.
I nodded. “I recognised you.”
“I sent you a message. Did you get it?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t bring myself to pull my phone out of my bag, not here, not with my father’s watchful eyes lurking everywhere. I barely had any friends, and I was scared that any sudden texting would make him suspicious.
Cullen stepped closer, his hands reaching up, one cupping my head, the other resting gently on my back. He pulled me toward him, tugging lightly at the nape of my hair.
I tilted my head. His mouth descended on mine. His kiss was soft, urgent, and electric. I was completely at his mercy. His presence made me feel my body come alive. Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned into him, needing to be closer.
“Fuck, Sarah, you taste perfect,” he rasped between delicious swipes of his tongue.
I couldn’t reply, slave to the sensations the kiss evoked in me. After days of cold, I felt warm. His hand went towards my waist as he carried me towards the bathroom counter, never stopping the kiss as he bent over me. I clung to his neck, wrapped my legs around his middle as he knelt before me. The bells started ringing, announcing the exit of the congregation.
I froze and Cullen pulled out of our kiss. Our lips were still brushing as we panted.
"Wait," I said quickly, breath catching. "We're in a public toilet. What if somebody walks in?" My hand pressed firmly against his chest, trying to be the voice of reason despite how much my body betrayed me.
Cullen gave me that sly, reckless smile. "Don't you want me?" he asked, teasing.
"I want you," I whispered, "but not like this. My father is in there. What if he thinks I took too long and comes in here? Do you want him to shoot you?"
He laughed. I swear to God, he actually laughed.
He turned and casually walked over to the restroom door, closed it like it was no big deal, then came back toward me with that maddening glint in his eyes. I had already hopped off the sink counter and stepped toward him, trying to keep my voice from rising.
"Is this your big idea?" I asked.
He grinned. "There are guards outside, and the moment you walk out, they’ll know. I'm just happy I got this moment with you."
"If he comes knocking?" I asked, eyebrows raised.
"You can tell him you’ve got a bad stomach."
"We're in the men's bathroom," I reminded him, folding my arms.
"So, do you want us to go to the women's bathroom then?"
"Are you crazy right now?"
But of course, he didn’t wait for an answer. He took my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, opened the men's restroom door with a swift glance down the hallway, saw no one and then pulled me out.
He marched us into the women’s bathroom and locked the door behind us. And I... I let him.
Before I realised he was so close, he grabbed me by the waist from behind and picked me up. It felt like I was a Pollyanna doll being tugged around. He set me on the bathroom counter, and for some reason, a rush of nerves shot through me. We stared at each other for a few minutes before I reached for him. He grabbed my nape, threaded his fingers into my hair, and then buried his face in my neck.
He made a masculine noise of satisfaction that I could feel deep in my stomach, before it settled between my legs. I rocked back, not fighting him, but shaken with this lightning bolt exploding in my chest and fizzing through my veins. My breasts pressed against his hard, warm abs and a shiver rolled through me. He ran his face up and down my neck, as though he was savouring my smell.
“Fuck. You feel good,” he groaned against my throat.
We were close to eye level on the island. The counter was cold against my thighs as he stepped between them, forcing them further apart. My heartbeat drummed in my ears, and a cold sensation crept through me. Fear. He pressed his lips to my throat, kissing a slow line down it. Each one sent a sizzle between my legs, and | tilted my head to give him more access, a moan escaping my lips. I wanted him, but at the unknown, a cool breath of fear dripped into my subconscious. I grasped the edge of the counter on both sides of me, trying to ground myself to earth somehow, while he worked my neck with slow kisses and scrapes of his teeth.
As his presence consumed my own, my reservations dissolved into smoke. His large hands ran down my sides, from underneath my breasts to low on my hips, his thumbs brushing bare skin beneath my skirt. It was a maddening sensation, and I was dying for him to go a little further, up or down. To just freaking pick one. His erection pressed against the inside of my thigh, and if he would only step forward a few inches, it would be right where I wanted it, needed it.
I swayed, my eyes heavy-lidded, when a solid grip came to the side of my neck to hold me still while he pressed hot, wet kisses to my throat. My head fell back on a moan, my hair skimming the bathroom countertop with the next nip of his teeth.
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