That wasn’t there before.
My breath caught.
He’d opened it.
Alistair fucking Graves had opened it.
My stomach dropped.
Why would he—?
Oh God.
He knew.
This was why I wished I were more like Melissa. She wouldn’t give a damn.
In fact, she’d probably invite him to join in.
But me?
I stood there, sweating shame and panic, while my brain short-circuited.
I turned back to the box. No careful peeling. No gentle folding of the cardboard for recycling like a responsible adult.
No. I tore that fucker open like it owed me money.
Triumphantly, I yanked the vibrator from its packaging and held it up like it was Excalibur.
Let the good times come—pun very much intended.
Maybe now I’d stop being so testy.
?? ?? ??
I didn’t remember falling asleep.
I just… rebooted.
Like someone had pulled my plug and left me in sleep mode on the bed, limp and blinking.
I rolled onto my side, the sheets still bunched beneath me, one thigh twitching. My hair stuck to the back of my neck, and my fingers were curled tight around the vibrator like I might need it for self-defence.
Seven.
Seven times.
Was that a personal best? Or a medical warning?
I stared at the ceiling, dazed, blinking slowly. Then turned to look at the little black menace beside me.
Its light had gone dim.
Oh no.
“You need to be charged already?” I croaked.
My voice sounded destroyed. Some of my muscles definitely were.
