Page 24 of When the Smoke Clears

“Don’t go,” she whispered, her eyes barely open as she grabbed my arm.

“You’re tired, and I am too.”

“I thought”—she yawned—“we were having sex.” Her words came out a little slurred, as if she were barely conscious. “Or cunnilingus.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. I wasn’t into having sex with sleeping women. Still, I ducked my head and kissed her neck. “Want me to make you come, Everleigh?” My erection returned just from saying the words aloud. She still smelled like flowers, and I could only imagine how she tasted.

“I . . .” she mumbled, eyes closed, “think . . . so.” She was out.

It was a first. I didn’t know what to do, but when I stood, her grip on my arm tightened.

“Please,” she whispered without opening her eyes.

“Fine. But I’m taking off my shirt because it’s hot in here.”

She made a noise, but it didn’t sound like an objection, so I ditched my shirt and wedged my body beneath hers on the sofa.

Hours later, the sunlight hit my face through the sheer curtains, and I squinted open an eye. Everleigh was in the kitchen, and it smelled amazing, like eggs and butter. And she looked just as delectable with her hair in a bun, a clean white T-shirt, and frayed denim shorts.

“I made coffee,” she said. “Well, the Keurig did. Do you want cream or sugar?”

I sat up and stretched. “I want a shower, and I need to brush my teeth.”

“Oh, um. Sure.” She turned off the burner and set the spatula aside. “There are towels in the bathroom. And Maya has extra toothbrushes on the bottom shelf of the linen closet. We both use electric ones, but the dentist always gives a free one at our six-month checkups.”

I headed toward the bathroom. “Cream, no sugar, please.”

What was I doing spending a sexless night with a woman I met at a bar, and sticking around the next day for a shower and breakfast? As I stepped into the tub and closed the glass sliding door, I shook my head and grinned. During my shower, I noticed the bathroom door was no longer completely shut, but I knew I’d closed it.

“Are you going to join me or just watch?” I said because I was an asshole who liked to make her blush.

Click.

The door shut.

I laughed.

After the shower, I brushed my teeth and sauntered into the kitchen with my hair wet, shirt still on the floor by the sofa. “Whose violin?” I asked, nodding to the case on the floor by an overgrown plant.

“Mine.”

“How long have you played?”

“As long as I can remember. I think they handed it to me the second I came out of the womb.”

I chuckled.

“Here are your eggs and toast.” She shoved the plate into my chest without looking up at me.

“Thanks.” I took it and sat at the small table by the window overlooking a park with weathered wood play equipment and a tornado slide. “Are you any good?”

“I’m okay.” She shrugged.

“Play something for me.”

“What do you want me to play?”

I lifted an eyebrow at her while picking up the fork. “You can take requests?”