"Mmhmm. All decent. Mostly."
She's drowning in my shirt, the hem hitting mid-thigh, and something possessive stirs in my chest at the sight. I grab her toiletry bag, desperate for distraction. "Skincare time."
"Yes! Can you help me?" She bounces on the bed. "First is the blue bottle. No, wait—the pink one. The tall pink one. No, the short pink one. The mushroom one!"
I force my eyes to her collection of bottles instead of where that shirt's slipping off her shoulder. "None of these resemble mushrooms, babe."
"The fancy one! With the gold cap!" She crawls toward me on all fours, andJesus fuck—this is how I die. "It's expensive, and Korean, and makes me look ten years younger."
My dick throbs as she leans over my shoulder, her breath hot against my neck. "That's . . . not helping." I grab the first bottle within reach. "This one?"
"No! That's step seven!" She presses closer. "The cleansing balm is . . . somewhere."
Five minutes of pure torture later, I find what might finally be right. She's practically in my lap now, and I'm one twitch away from losing my goddamn mind.
"Close your eyes." I sit beside her, but she nuzzles into my space like a drunk kitten with no sense of self-preservation.
"You have to massage it in circles," she demonstrates with little finger movements that shouldn't be erotic but somehow are. "Like you're petting a very small, veryfancy cat."
If someone had told me last month, that I'd be doing a fucking twelve-step skincare routine for a girl while fighting the hardest erection of my life, I'd have laughed in their face.
But this is Ivy.
So I'm sitting here, carefully applying some ridiculously expensive cream to her face while she makes little content sounds.
"Now the foamy one." Her eyes stay closed, lips parted, and it sparks the sharp urge to sink my teeth into them. "The one that smells like clouds."
"Clouds don't smell like anything."
"Yes they do! They smell like . . ." She yawns. "Like clean laundry and angel tears."
Twenty minutes, and a hundred dollar’s worth of products later, she's glowing. I've definitely fucked up the order, and probably violated several skincare laws, but she looks so happy I can't regret it.
"Perfect." She beams up at me, face shining.
I grab water and Advil, desperate for space. "Drink this. Future you will thank me."
"Future me is future me's problem." But she takes the pills anyway, then flops onto the bed with a sigh.
I glance at the couch by the window. It's going to destroy my back, but it's safer than—
"Caleb." She pats the space beside her. "Don't be stupid."
My fingers strangle the pillow. "That's not the point."
"What, you think I'm going to jump you in your sleep?" Her attempt at eyebrow waggling just makes her look cross-eyed, but somehow it's still sexy. "I mean, no promises, but . . ."
"And onthatnote—" I turn toward the couch.
"Please?" The vulnerability in her voice stops me cold. "I just . . . I don't want to be alone."
Fuck me sideways.
"Fine." I drop the pillow. "But you're staying on your side."
And I'm going straight to hell.
I strip down to my boxers, every nerve ending on high alert as her gaze tracks my movements. The air crackles with something dangerous. When I chance a peek, she's watching me through heavy-lidded eyes.
