As the car descends slowly, the women thrust their arms high, and the men bump hips with them. We all jostle around, and after a few seconds of sardining, Maddox arranges himself right in front of me. So much for necessary distance. Now I’m almost as close to him as I want to be, which is the motherfucking problem. Mere inches separate us, and I catch a faint whiff of his shampoo. He smells like the ocean, and the scent lights up my mind. I want to make out on the beach with him until we’re sweaty and hot and have to jump in the sea. I want to take him back to my bungalow and strip him to
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