“Always so full of yourself,” she chuckles.
I wrap my arms around her as I press a kiss to her cheek. “Mm. I think we can both agree now that it’s alittleearned.”
I don’t miss the roll of her eyes, but there’s a small smile at her mouth too, so I don’t take it to heart.
“I need to clean up,” she says, shifting away from me a little.
My eyes feel even heavier now—whether from the mind-blowing orgasm or the game, I can’t say—but I can feel them drooping as Abby rolls away from me. She doesn’t look at me as she does it, but I turn my face into the pillow where her head just was, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and smiling into it.
“Come back to bed after,” I mumble, watching through bleary eyes as she moves toward the bathroom.
She doesn’t answer, but that’s okay. She’ll come back.
I keep breathing in the soft scent of her, smiling all the while as I drift off to sleep.
Fifteen
Abby
I wake to the smell ofbacon and the feel of my own panic.
I didn’t go back to Jack’s bed after I cleaned up; I found him asleep on top of the sheets with his dick still out when I came back from the bathroom. And even though the sight of it made me chuckle a little, I couldn’t bring myself to climb under the covers with him like he asked after I cleaned him up and helped him shimmy out of his jeans while he snored.
I don’t know what possessed me to initiate last night. I mulled it over and over again in my head before I finally passed out from exhaustion, and the best thing I can come up with is that I was lonely. Lonely and horny, apparently. And sure, it was the best orgasm I’ve had since…Well. Maybe ever. But that still doesn’t mean it was a good idea.
What does Jack think of me now? Does he think I’m the kind of girl who just jumps into bed with the first guy who smiles at her? Does he think this means we’re going to do it again? Becausewecan’tdo it again; that would be stupid, considering we’re living together and our siblings are in love. It would be a totally bad idea.
Right?
I roll myself out of bed with a groan, my limbs feeling like jelly and my thighs pressing together as memories of last night come flooding back to me. I can still hear the filthy things Jack murmured to me, can still see the expression on his face when he looked at me, and all of it is enough to make me sort ofwantto go out there and drag him back for another round.
But again, that would be a totally bad idea.
I kind of want to hide in my room for the rest of the day—I don’t have class or anything to distract me from the fact that my roommate who ate me out last night is apparently in the other room makingbreakfast—but I know that hiding would be stupid. Eventually, I will have to face the fact that we did what we did, and that I fucking loved it. Even if I’m pretty sure we can never do it again. Surely, Jack will agree with me. He’s smart. He has to know it’s a bad idea.
Right?
I shuffle out of my room carefully, peeking down the hall and finding it empty, but the sounds of sizzling bacon and the toaster popping alert me that yes, he really is out there. I take a deep breath as I try to appear as casual as I can, smoothing down my T-shirt and resisting the urge to duck into the bathroom to check my appearance before I finally make my way into the living room.
His back is to me; his broad shoulders fill out a threadbare gray T-shirt that makes him look wider and yummier—did I really just think the wordyummier? I have to get a grip fast.
And when he turns and notices me, his smile is wide andbright, like he’s excited. My stomach drops at the sight of it, because clearly he’s already thinking that this is going to become a thing. Which it can’t. Despite the killer orgasm, Jack isn’t the type of guy to be satisfied with someone like me. I’m too moody, too much of a buzzkill on my best day, and Jack…Well. Jack is sunshine incarnate all wrapped up in a killer smile and a flirty attitude.
“Good morning,” he says brightly as he looks at me from over his shoulder. “How did you sleep?”
I swallow thickly, moving carefully into the kitchen like a bomb might go off under my feet at any moment. “I slept…good.”
“You didn’t come back to bed,” he says with a pout.
“Oh.” I take a seat at the kitchen counter, shifting a little with guilt. “You were kind of hogging the bed when I got back from the bathroom. I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Sorry I fell asleep,” he says sheepishly. “It was a long day, and then, well…orgasms kind of take it out of me.”
I feel a flush creeping up my neck at his casual mention of our tryst. Do people still saytryst? Is that the right word for what we did?
I clear my throat. “What are you making?”
“Everything,” he tells me. “I have bacon and toast and eggs, and I’m working on pancakes.” He laughs then. “Did you know I saw an article about some chef in California that can’t make pancakes? There was this whole piece about his restaurant, and he admitted it’s the one thing he can’t make. Isn’t that stupid?”
