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Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have bought a crib.

Shaking off my frustration about my own stupidity, I head back outside to my truck to gather the rest of Lennon’s things.

She probably thinks I overstepped, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Pretend like she’s not about to have a baby while she’s living with me?

I thought that buying the crib would make her feel more at ease. Turns out, I’m more oblivious to the underlying tension between us than I thought.

When I make my way back inside, I don’t see Lennon, so I set the boxes down and make one more trip out for a suitcase and a duffel bag.

“Do you need any more help?” She comes down the hall as I roll the last suitcase to a stop.

“Nope. That was the last of it.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” Her smile is soft, helping thaw my frustration. “And thank you for the crib, Easton. That was…very thoughtful of you.”

“I should’ve asked first, though. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I guess it just took me by surprise, that’s all.” Her hand finds her stomach. “I’m still struggling with all of this…”

“You hungry?” I ask, changing the subject because I’m desperate for the awkwardness to subside. She just moved in, and I’ll be damned if this is how it’s going to feel for as long as she’s here.

“No, I ate earlier.”

“All right. Want to start unpacking then?”

“I guess I should, huh?”

“No time like the present.” She follows me back to my bedroom—I mean, our bedroom—and pulls a suitcase into the closet. For a moment, I debate watching her unpack, but then I think better of it.

I don’t want Lennon to feel like this isn’t her home now too, or that I’m going to stalk her every move.

Fuck, this is going to take some getting used to.

“Do you mind if I hop in the shower while you unpack?”

Lennon’s eyes grow wide and then she shifts her gaze away from me. “It’s your house, Easton. Do whatever you want.”

“It’s our house now,” I remind her. “I just want to make sure you aren’t going to need anything.”

“Nope. I’m good,” she says, still avoiding my eyes.

I head for the main bath, closing and locking the door behind me, which will also take some practice. I turn on the shower, letting the water heat up as I think about other things I’m going to need to change now that Lennon is living with me—using the bathroom with the door shut, picking up after myself even though I’d consider myself the furthest thing from a slob, and then something else dawns on me—masturbating.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t practice some self-care on a pretty regular schedule. But usually, I do that in bed before I go to sleep.

Well, I’m sure the last thing Lennon wants to know is how you fondle yourself.

Groaning, I strip my clothes off and toss them in the hamper before stepping inside the shower, letting the hot water rinse off the dirt and grime of the day.

Once my hair is clean and my body washed, I reach for the handle to turn off the water, but think better of it, reaching down for my cock instead.

No time like the present to change the routine.

I stroke myself, and it doesn’t take long for me to grow hard, but the thoughts making that happen so quickly should be alarming.

Lennon’s lips.

Lennon’s ass.