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“Oh my God.”
“I was considerate about it. I’d do it quietly after class.”
“That’s worse. That’s so much worse. You were running teacher crisis management at age nine—”
“Eight. And she was wrong about the water cycle. Someone had to tell her.”
And I’m laughing, and she’s almost laughing—the corner of her mouth is curling up, and I have the urge to kiss that spot right there. She goes to scroll to another photo to prove some point about her own seriousness, and the phone dies.
Black screen. Just like that.
“Oh no, it’s—hang on.” She frowns at it, presses the side. Nothing. “It’s dead. It does this. The battery’s— There’s a charger in the drawer. Bedside drawer. Could you—”
She gestures at the nightstand. My side.
I open the drawer.
The charger is inside, coiled into a perfect circle.
Naturally.
Beside it sits a small rabbit vibrator.
Chapter Thirty
Cal
My hand stills.
An image flooding my senses. Bea. In this bed. Hair spread over the pillow, one hand between her legs—
Blood moves hard and immediate into my cock.
I freeze with my hand on the charger.
For half a second, I don’t know what to do. I could take the charger and say nothing. But the blood is already heading south at the thought of her, at night, in this bed—
“Doc,” I say, not looking at her, looking into the drawer with what I hope is an extremely neutral expression. “This is a very organized drawer.”
“What...”
“It’s just very tidy. Everything in its place. Charger, perfectly coiled. And—” I finally turn and look at her. “Other essentials.”
Her eyes go wide as it lands. Bea Walker goes instantly, completely scarlet. This is fucking brilliant.
“Oh my God.” She lunges for the drawer. “Give me— Put it— Close the drawer—”
“I’m getting your phone charger!”
“Close the drawer, Callum—”
I close the drawer. The charger is in my hand. Her hands are over her face, and I am, honestly, having the best time I’ve had in about a year.
“Doc. Doc. Look at me.” I try to pry her hands off her face.
“I’m not looking at you.”
“Bea.”
