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Scratch that.
No, I don’t.
Because I don’t exist.
If I don’t exist, I can’t pick the lock on her back door in ten seconds flat, and if I don’t exist I can’t slide into her apartment and hide in the bathtub while Lindsay and Jane chat in her tiny galley kitchen, each holding a wine cooler and sharing a plate of chicken wings.
And if I don’t exist, I can’t wait her out.
Good thing I don’t exist.
That leaky shower head sure does exist, though. I wait them out, hoping Lindsay still has a bladder the size of a pea. We joked about it for years, road trips dominated by bathroom stops.
By the time she finally comes into the bathroom and locks the door, my hair is soaked, and there’s a cold line of wet cloth running from the nape of my neck down my ass crack.
I wait until she’s vulnerable.
Slowly, with agonizing care, I peel back the shower curtain and look for her, ready to shush her.
Except she’s not on the toilet.
She’s in the far corner of the bathroom, smirking, fully clothed and giving me a once-over look that makes me swell.
“Took you long enough.”
And then her mouth is on mine. We’re hungry for each other’s touch and taste. She’s all grapes and sour apple, with a sweet ’n sour scent lingering as our tongues tangle, her hands sliding under my wet shirt to find my back, the heat of her palms making me groan.
We don’t even have to say it. Being back together, being free together with the secrets of the past poured out between us leaves me pulsing with anticipation.
With need.
Lindsay feels it, too.
“What’s with the ninja costume?” she asks, laughing against my jaw.
“Ninja pool man,” I whisper, biting her earlobe.
Her hand cups me, making me hiss, the promise too much. “Don’t get me going. Not when we can’t do anything about it.” She ignores me and begins stroking me over my pants, touching me in unspeakable ways.
At least, I can’t speak right now.
“Jane left. We’re alone. I can finish anything you start, Drew. I can’t believe how much I want you.”
That’s all I need to hear.
“Not here, though,” I warn. The fact that Jane made herself scarce tells me she’s close to Lindsay, which is a double-edged sword. I want Lindsay to have friends, a confidante. On the other hand, the more people know about my actions, the more at risk Lindsay is. Jane’s trustworthy.
To the extent that anyone is.
“Where?” she gasps as I circle her nipple with my thumb, making it peak, the reaction arousing. She sighs, a breathy sound that pushes against my jaw as I kiss her again. I can’t get enough of her. I need to be in her, need to make her know how much I want her, how incomplete I am without her near me.
A cheap apartment bathtub in an unsecured location isn’t cutting it.
“Can’t do my place,” I whisper. “I’m sure I’m being watched.”
“Same with my house,” she hisses as she reaches down the front of my pants and very expertly wraps her fingers around my hard shaft.
All logic shatters into a thousand soft pieces of groaning bliss.
