He clears his throat, snapping me out of my daydream.
"Shit, sorry. I was—"
"Checking out your husband?" he teases, turning the tap off. The only sound between us is the soft drip-drip-drip of the shower-head. "That’s not a crime, you know? I check you out every single time I see you."
He grins as he wraps a towel around his waist, covering the part of him my eyes couldn’t stop staring at.
Probably for good reason.
I have to leave in—shit—thirty seconds.
"As much as I would love to continue flirting with my husband, I just need the mirror so I can see where I’m injecting. I’m doing my arm today. I don’t know if I’ll be able to reach."
"I’ll do it. I used to do Orlando’s arms, too. That spot’s a pain to get to on your own."
He watches me, hopeful I won’t say no. Terrified that he’s just overstepped.
"Would you? That would be amazing."
I rush into the bathroom, carefully laying out everything I need. He leaps into action right away.
He picks up the alcohol wipe and cleans the back of my arm, waiting patiently for it to dry.
I can feel his eyes on me in the mirror, but I can’t bring myself to meet them.
I already feel too much for him.
"Please don’t go too slow. I’ve found if I just jab it in..." I hold the medication, lid still on, and show him what I mean. "It leaves less of a mark."
My smile is weak. He nods, understanding.
"I would never hurt you." He rips off the lid that covers the needle, hovering it near my flesh, and I look away. "Three. Two. One. All done."
Done? I didn’t feel a thing.
"Now, go. I’ll clean it up. I’ll see you later." He leans down and kisses me like it’s the most natural thing we could do.
And I kiss him back.
It’s slow and deep, his tongue sweeping past my bottom lip. But when I feel him growing beneath the towel, my knees weaken, heat rushing from between my legs to my cheeks.
Then comes the signature knock at his hotel room door.
Avery pulls away reluctantly, jaw clenched, resting his forehead against mine. He grabs my backpack and walks to the door, where we both know Akira is waiting. I follow, slipping on my sandals.
"I’ll see you tonight," I say, rising onto my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.
He cups my cheeks, the pad of his thumb stroking gently as he kisses me back. I’ve come to accept the fact that we no longer kiss when people are around—no longer make out like two people who’re faking it for each other.
We pull apart and he gives me a soft smile, then yanks the door open. And sure enough, Akira is waiting out in the hall. "Morning. You ready to go?"
"Yep," I say, shifting my weight.
He holds my backpack out. "Can you take this to the car? Our girl here has a sore arm at the moment, and shouldn’t carry anything heavy for a little while."
Akira takes it from him without hesitation, her eyes trailing him up and down.
"You going camping, Jones?" she teases.
