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Me: Okay. But I do, can’t help it.

I rub my feet against Jonathan’s under the comforter. But I don’t feel his skin. “You wear socks to bed?”

“Sometimes.” He spoons in another mouthful of cereal, watching sports updates on his laptop.

We moved in together a week ago, and I’m still learning all his idiosyncrasies. I didn’t think he’d have many, but he’s a more complex person than I imagined.

He won’t talk to me without brushing his teeth in the morning. I like to wake up with a kiss. Instead, I have to wait until he returns from the bathroom. He doesn’t care if I’ve brushed my teeth.

But I keep a glass of water with peppermint drops in it. I learned that water first thing is good for the skin, digestion and some other things I forget. And the peppermint is an added breath benefit. I guess it works because Jonathan has yet to complain.

“When are the sometimes?” I ask, curious because he runs hot, so I can’t imagine it’s because his feet are cold.

“When I need to moisturize my feet and when it’s raining out.”

I stare at him. “You moisturize your feet?” Probably not the noteworthy thing to get hung up on, but the rain kinda makes sense to me.

“Yeah. The chlorine takes its toll on my skin, and my feet need some attention sometimes.”

I smile. “What do you use?”

“Vaseline lotion. Put it on before bed, socks on, the next morning my feet are soft.” He explains it like it’s such a simple thing. He’s barely taken his eyes off his laptop screen.

I’m so fascinated by this. I crawl under the covers and reach for his sock.

He slaps my butt, which is poking out from under the comforter. “What are you doing down there?”

“I wanted to see for myself,” I say, peeling back his sock and running my hand over his heel. Holy crap, his feet are baby soft. Jonathan yanks back his foot when I trace my fingers over his arch.

“Stop it, that tickles.” He proceeds to pinch my butt.

“Ouch!”

“You’re not wearing underwear?”

I throw back the covers and kneel on the bed. “Why would I?”

He quirks a brow.

“I wear them all day; why would I wear them at night too? That’s gross.”

He laughs. “I’m learning so much about you.” He sets his empty bowl and laptop on the side table. “But I think this is one of my favorite things.”

Jonathan grabs me around the waist and pulls me over him. I straddle his thighs and run my fingers through his silky hair. He has more hair products than I do. Probably why his is so shiny and much better behaved than mine on the daily.

His hands caress my legs and under my silk shorts, cupping my cheeks. “And you always wear matching pajamas?”

“Yes?” I say like a question. Why is he even asking this? “And you sleep in your boxers. So?”

“It’s cute,” he says, groping me.

“Why are you suddenly fascinated with my bottom?”

“Bottom?” Jonathan chuckles. “Oh, Sadie, you kill me in the best way.” He raises a brow in a flirtatious arch. “So I can do this.” He proceeds to lift me up with his hands on my bottom. I wrap my arms around his neck with a yelp, surprised by his strength. He flips me onto my back and lowers on top of me, pressing the boxers he’s wearing between my thighs.

“Oh,” I breathe out, my hands on his bare chest. He keeps one hand inside my shorts, taking full advantage of my panty-less state, making me breathe even faster, while sliding his boxers down.

“I’m kind of liking the whole, no underwear to bed thing. I may have to adopt it myself.”