When I exit the shower, I draw the half heart on the foggy mirror like always, then become irrationally disappointed at the towel situation.
Poor Reed, surviving in these conditions. Mild cheddar and no towel warmer. Must be a struggle to go on each day. No wonder he’s a grump.
Despite the room-temperature plush cotton, my skin tingles everywhere it caresses away the water droplets. Next thing I know, my hips are pulsing.
Again?
As if answering my unspoken question, lust spikes suddenly. Another wave crashes against me, then another. My entire body is practically vibrating.
Maybe this will stop once I get dressed. I wrap the towel around me and dash into Reed’s closet, hoping he has a shirt large enough for me.
I squeeze into an XL cotton tee and complete the ensemble with boxer briefs I swipe from his dresser drawer.
I reluctantly peek in the bedroom mirror, and instantly long for death. The shirt pulls absurdly tight across my chest. And I’m muffin topping the heck out of his boxers. I look like someone put a belt on the jelly guy fromMonsters vs. Aliens.
For an extra serving of self-loathing fuel, I bend forward. The elastic waistband has no choice but to fold on itself, rolling over and playing dead. My belly spills out.
Nothing likefatting outof a pair of bottoms.
Welp. So much for this outfit.
I dart into the bathroom, swiping my dirty clothes off the floor. One whiff makes me gag.
All that time birding in a Florida swamp came at a stinky price.
Wonder if Reed has a washer and dryer?
I look at my wrist to check the time, then remember I don’t wear a watch. And if I did, I wouldn’t have worn it in the shower. The ghosts and I laugh at my idiocy.
Reed should be here soon. There’s no way to clean and dry my clothes in time without a portal to a magical realm. And I left mine at home.
While washing them like a mortal, I’ll need to hide under the covers until I hear the dryer buzz. By then, Reed will be here, and I can ask him to fetch them by batting my eyelashes or promising him a hand job.
I quickly search the condo, finding a laundry closet. “Woo hoo!”
His key clicks into the front door lock two seconds after I start the speed wash cycle. In a rush, I power walk into his bedroom and turn off the big light. Before the thump of the front door closing echoes, I’ve already hidden under the covers.
Since I’m still feeling the effects of the gummy, I giggle the entire time.
“Lila, I’m home.”
His voice fills me with contentment.
“I’m in your room,” I call back.
Fuzzy panic sets in when I realize my earlier joke about his bed making me climax might come true.
Now that my sensitive skin is swaddled in these lush sheets, the pulsing between my legs drowns out every other thought.
All I can think is:Must come. Must come.
By the time I notice Reed’s footsteps approaching, I’m panting like I’ve been chasing the ghosts around the condo for three hours. My hips won’t stop rocking. And I’m warmabsolutelyeverywhere.
As Reed eases into his room, I force myself to impersonate a log. It doesn’t work for long because unbeknownst to me, my hand has slipped into the slot in the front of his boxers. The ones I’m wearing, not the ones on him. However, if he gets within swiping distance, I’m liable to get in those too.
Mother Nature wouldn’t have given me two hands if she didn’t want me to use them.
Clueless to my lustful state, he smiles an easy greeting at me. “Hey, cookie. Everything go okay?”
