Throw a prom for a woman whose ex-fiancé proposed with a fake prom? Check.
Get invaded by a nosy family who still owes me more revenge pranks? Check.
Bird shit in the hair? Check.
The woman of my dreams—when I didn’t even know Ihada woman of my dreams six months ago—catching me talking to my dick? Check.
Group texting my family my biggest secret? Check, check, check.
So why is Waverly walking straight toward me and untying my towel and letting it drop between us?
And going up on her tiptoes?
And brushing her lips against—holy fuck me with a baseball bat.
Her lips.
God.
Her lips.
They’re plump and soft and warm and perfect, teasing mine while her fingers thread through my wet hair and she pulls me tighter.
I don’t deserve this.
I don’t deserve her.
But I wrap my arms around her, lifting her, my cock getting harder and heavier as she hooks her legs around my hips and kisses me deeper.
“Why?” I groan out against her mouth despite the loud voice in my head ordering me to shut up and not ask questions.
“You’re so damn irresistible,” she replies between kisses while her hands explore my skin.
I’m a fucking disaster. But if that’s what she likes, I’ll be a damn disaster every day of the week.
I turn, take two steps to carry her to bed, and slip on a wet spot on the tile floor.
Waverly shrieks. Our teeth mash together, and suddenly, she’s gripping my whole body with her whole body like I’m a tree she’s climbing to get away from danger, even though this tree is in danger of toppling itself.
“Fuck,” I say.
She buries her head in the crook of my neck and giggles.
Giggles.
God, she smells good. And her giggle—she should release an album of just that giggle. To me. Personally. No one else.
I find my footing and head for my bedroom again, but almost drop her a second time when she nips at my neck.
“Five more steps, cheater,” I manage to force out.
My dick is aching like it hasn’t ached in centuries.
I’m getting lightheaded.
And she’s squeezing my hips even tighter with her thighs, which is making both my dick and my head do more of what they’re doing.
Are my eyes crossed?
