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Kissing her was supposed to take the edge off.

Instead, all I can think about is getting her somewhere private and finding out what sound she makes when she comes.

I rest my forehead against hers, both of us breathing hard.

“I want you somewhere I don’t have to stop.”

“Not here,” she murmurs. “I’ll spend the entire time listening for footsteps.”

“Then tell me where.”

She swallows, but her voice is steady.

“My house. Tonight.”

I pull back to look at her.

Her hair is wrecked from my hands. Her mouth is pink and swollen, and there’s something intensely satisfying about knowing I put it there.

“What time?”

“Seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

Her eyes dip to my mouth. “Good.”

If she keeps looking at me like that, seven is going to feel a long fucking way away.

Her gaze drops between us.

The hard outline of my cock is impossible to miss.

Bea bites her lip. “That looks uncomfortable.”

“Excellent clinical observation.”

“At least we know your reproductive system is functioning.”

I laugh once, low.

She smiles as she picks up her bag. “Consider tonight a lesson in applied anatomy.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Bea

Ihave not been this clean since the day I was born.

The shower’s been running for over twenty minutes, and I thank god Ashley is out of the house because I know she’d shout at me for wasting water. I’ve washed my hair twice. I’ve exfoliated. I’ve shaved my legs, my underarms, every inch of my body with a surgical focus. I’ve even shaved my big toes, you know, just in case.

After getting out and drying myself, I spray perfume on my wrists, the back of my neck and—in what I am now realizing, standing in front of the mirror, was a catastrophic error—a generous spritz somewhere considerably further south.

“You idiot,” I say out loud.

The perfume is still burning. It’s not too painful, just in a ‘oh God that was too close to the target’ way.

I run the cold tap and splash water between my legs trying to put out a very small, very specific fire. The cold helps. Ahh, sweet relief.