Do not look down. Think about something else.
Bridge cables. Seismic activity. The profoundly unsettling eye placement of Gerald the Penguin. Dom’s face. Noah’s face. Noah is actually very helpful here. There is nothing less arousing than the mental image of Noah Callahan, who would murder me if he saw his best friend in this specific situation with his sister.
The thought should be doing more work than it is, but Piper is still very close to my dick.
Move, I tell myself.
I can’t. If I move, she wakes up. If she wakes up, she becomes aware of the situation.
I’m not going to be another man who makes her feel like she has to apologize for existing.
Don’t be the asshole, Griffin. She’s had enough assholes. Don’t be the next one.
She shifts.
Toward me.
I’m dying.
She makes a small, sleepy sound and tucks herself closer into my side. Her leg moves, so the thigh that was near my crotch is nowonmy crotch.
I carefully reopen negotiations with the ceiling. If she gets any closer, she’s going to be climbing me like a tree.
Then, in what I swear is slow motion, I watch her hand move from where it’s resting on my chest.
It’s a sleepy stroke of the palm against whatever surface it’s lying on. The unconscious motion of someone hovering between dreams.
It drifts lower.
Her fingers trail across my stomach.
Her hand pauses.
Don’t.
Lower.
Piper, I am begging you, don’t.
Her hand slides south with the inevitability of gravity and the focus of a heat-seeking missile. She is approximately three inches from introducing herself to the full situation.
The speed at which I jump out of bed definitely sets a record.
The covers go sideways. Piper makes a startled noise and lunges for the sheets I’ve just launched into orbit.
“Morning!” My voice comes out about four notes higher than where it usually lives.
Piper blinks at me, hair everywhere, half-tangled in the bedding, with the expression of someone who was in a deep coma ten seconds ago and is now trying to locate reality.
“Rise and shine,” I tell her. “Road trip. Time to go. Big day.”
She stares at me. “Griffin—”
“I’m going for a shower.” I’m already walking. “Early start. A lot of miles to cover.”
She turns her head and squints at the window. “It’s barely light.”
“Great day for driving,” I say, reaching for the bathroom door. “The weather looks good. I saw the forecast.”
