Showering and watching the black water run down my body was the most satisfying thing. I spent extra time rinsing everything off cause the hotel robe is white and I don't want to leave dye stains on it.

And when I'm done, seeing my pitch-black hair is the most fulfilling feeling ever. I look like death and I love it.

I secure the robe around my body, purposefully making it look hot infront of the mirror before I come out of the bathroom. I like to think that everyone would do the same, just not everyone is as brave as me to have the courage to admit it.

And even though I come out of there feeling as confident as ever, still, I almost trip over my feet when I see Clay shirtless on the bed, munching on gummy bears as he does, eyes focused on the TV.

What makes me question him are the low-hanging jeans that reveal too much of that godly V-line of his, and the stupidly attractive abs. The way they're defined makes me sure that there's no way in hell he's not flexing his muscles purposefully.

But then again, who am I to judge when I spent ten minutes adjusting my robe so that it would show the perfect amount of cleavage and collarbones. Honestly, we deserve each other.

Clay stops chewing when he looks at me. I'm not sure if he swallowed the gummy bear or just gulped, but I see his adam's apple bob noticeably.

This time I decide to go with a different strategy to avoid getting flustered. And you know what they say; attack is the best form of defense.

"Where'd your shirt go?" I get closer to him and dunk my hand into the bag of gummy bears.

"I took it off," he's trying hard to maintain eye contact when there are so many better things to look at below.

"It's not that hot?" I put two gummy bears in my mouth slowly, still maintaining eye contact.

Clay sits up straight as I sit on my knees right next to him. My thigh peaks through the robe and his eyes drop to look at it. When he looks up at me again, his eyes are darkened to the point where I can barely see the green in them.

"It is," his voice is deep, "and you're not helping it."

It takes me a moment to remember that the conversation was about the room being hot.

I get closer to him, gently putting my hand on his chest for support. As I move the gummies in my mouth with my tongue, I catch his eyes dropping to my mouth. Licking my lips, I coat them with the sugary liquid, satisfied to see that he looks mesmerized looking at the act.

His heartbeat becomes more and more prominent against my skin. It makes me lean a bit closer to his face, just to test if it's really my presence affecting the rhythm of it, and when it proves my doubts, Clay holds his breath.

"What do you wanna do?" I can feel the heat of his skin radiating and burning my lips. None of us dare to cut the distance.

"You don't wanna know."

I press my legs together as his voice makes every single cell in my body turn.

"Tell me," my voice is close to a whisper, "what do you want?"

Our noses nudge. Clay looks up from my lips, and I follow his gaze, finding my reflection in his dramatically dilated pupils.

He breathes.

"You."

I lean closer until our lips brush, almost sticking to each other from the sugary coating. Smiling when he shuts his eyes, I slowly capture his upper lip with my darker ones, feeling him take in a long, jagged breath before I feel his hot lips trap my bottom lip.

I can't wrap my head around the fact that such a simple, lazy, effortless thing feels so intense that it's daring to scare me. And it does, cause right when I feel my heart stop and beat harder afterwards, I slowly break the kiss, enjoying the light contact of our lips instead of pulling away completely.

"Do you want a tattoo?" I mutter into his lips.

We bought a stick and poke set cause he said he'll let me give him a small tattoo after finding out that I have experience. And in the chaos of my mind, I thought; what's a better time for it than now?

"Yeah," he breathes.

I close my eyes again, feeling his soft lips on me again. It's almost like he knew that I'm gonna pull away any second and decided to take as much in as possible. But it's so much stronger now - that feeling. It's burning me, I don't know what to do with it.

Mindlessly, I press my tongue against his lips and exhale when he parts them. The heat gets nearly unbearable with the depth the contact of our tongues provides, and before I know, Clay's hand grips my upper thigh forcefully. I whimper into the kiss, thinking about straddling him but then remembering that my body is completely bare under this robe. If I do even one uncoordinated move, I'll-

I push my body away from his chest and break the kiss, both taking in a sharp breath and sighing at the loss of contact. I don't know what's gotten into me, but this made the tension so much worse - it's unbearable.

Why did I do it? And why did it feel that good? I can't find a way to describe it. The best I can do is say that it felt like it was better- no, more than a kiss.

Oh god, I've officially gone insane.

He watches me as I carefully climb away, approaching the drawer and pulling out the tattoo kit along with some other products I grabbed. The silence is too loud.

The trust I have in this belt keeping the two sides of the robe together has been unbelievable, but it's about time to change it. After putting the stencils on the bed infront of Clay, I go back to the bathroom to wash my hands and decide that I'm gonna put on some underwear first and then his sweater. It's long enough to keep me comfortable.

I wash my hands and wrists thoroughly, still having trouble understanding what's happening. Looking at the mirror makes me feel like I'm having one of those dreams where you watch yourself do stupid shit but you have no control over your body whatsoever. It's like a movie.

Do I need help?

I go back to the room. And seems like Clay's chosen the design he wants. All of them are small simple things, nothing too visible, nothing too complicated.

"Which one?" I sit on my knees again, looking at the stencil he's holding.

He points at a small design. Looks like the letter C, which is kinda selfish of him to want tattooed on him.

"Your initial?" I raise a brow, narrowing my eyes as he frowns.

He looks at it again, confused.

"It's a moon, idiot."

I look at it again. It kind of makes more sense if it's a moon cause the thing next to it is a sun. Can't blame me though, it can be interpreted both ways.

"Now choose a place not that visible in case I fuck up," I know my words don't sound promising, but I gotta be honest with him, it's permanent.

Finding a good spot is the real task. I have one below my ankle and I think it's the perfect spot to hide a tattoo, but he wants one on the upper half of his body.

"Maybe here?" I part his ring finger from the pinky and pat the side of it.

"Not on my hands," he shakes his head.

"Tilt your head for me," I gently push his chin, "I'm thinking here."

After a while, I finally come up with something he likes. On his neck, behind his ear. Goosebumps rise on his skin when I touch the spot, and I hear him speak.

"Yeah," his voice's gone so much deeper, "right there."