Page 90

THUD!

“Okay… that was definitely louder.”

CRACK!

I drop the sponge into the sink and run toward the noise.

WHOOSH!

I open my bedroom door and see a waterfall gushing from a broken pipe directly onto my bed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Pickles!” I yell at the ceiling.

Cillian comes sprinting out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his soaked hair dripping onto his shoulders.

He stops at the doorway, takes one look at the soaked mattress, and bursts out laughing.

“How the hell did this even happen?” I ask, and he shrugs, laughing.

“You made Pickles angry?”

“How about a more realistic reason?”

“I don’t know!”

“How long ago did you buy Pickles?”

“Ten years. Why?”

“What’s the plumbing’s maintenance schedule?”

“Ah…” Cillian opens his mouth, but then closes it.

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Please tell me you’ve checked the plumbing at least once since you bought this cabin.”

“Why would I? It’s not broken—okay, now it is… but five minutes ago, it wasn’t.”

“Old copper pipes get easily damaged in freezing temperatures, Cillian. Any water left inside them will freeze, expand, and…” I point at the gaping hole in the ceiling to make my point.

“Yeah…” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not to lean too hard into the helpless billionaire trope, but I usually pay people to handle this stuff for me.”

“My God…” I sigh, wiping water off my face. “I’ll fix it tomorrow, and I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“No way. You don’t fit on that couch,” Cillian says, already turning and heading down the hall. “Come on. We can share my bed. It’s big enough to have a sleepover.”

I follow him to his bedroom, but stop cold the second I cross the threshold.

The entire room smells like Cillian, and it feels warm, cozy, and so fucking inviting.

I stare at the California king-sized mattress, and I can’t help but picture myself pinning Cillian by his wrists to that headboard. Getting him on all fours, pushing his face against those soft sheets as I slide my cock between his thighs.

“Fuck no,” I say, backing toward the door. “I’m getting the couch.”

“Why? The bed big enough for both of us.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with you, Cillian.”

Cillian turns and looks at me like I am being childish—which yeah, I am…