My eyes widen when I look at my appearance in the mirror above the sink. I look…well, I look like I was thoroughly fucked. My hair is messy, my lips are swollen, and there’s a hickey on my neck. I wet my toothbrush and squirt some toothpaste on the bristles. I start brushing with my right hand as I work on fixing my hair with my left.

This feels normal. I’m usually rushed in the mornings, hurrying to get to the hospital. I relax some, melting into a routine. Until things shift from expected into unexpected again.

Gray walks into the bathroom. I stop brushing. Unlike me, he didn’t bother to put anything on. He’s still completely naked. I choke a little, the sharp tang of mint burning the back of my throat.

I can’t look him in the eye. I’m looking lower.

He’s hard. Is it because it’s morning, or is it because of me?

He’s looking at me like it’s me.

The bathroom attached to my childhood bedroom is small. I still had to fight Noah for the room with the en suite. The other full bathroom is twice the size, but it requires walking down the hallway. This bathroom has never felt tinier than it does right now.

He approaches me deliberately. I’ve always admired that about Gray. He doesn’t shirk away from what he wants. When he chose the Air Force Academy over Duke, he wore a USAF baseball cap every single day for months. Noah was upset—they’d talked about attending Duke together for years. His basketball teammates were disappointed—he would have had a spot on Duke’s highly competitive team. And Henry—well, I’m not really sure there’s a word to describe a man who’s had a dream shattered. Was it fair of him to pin all that on Gray? Probably not, but he did anyway.

Gray still wore the hat.

“Cat stopped screaming,” he tells me.

“She’ll start back up again soon. She’s just regrouping.”

Gray smirks, then takes the toothbrush from me, adds more toothpaste, and sticks it in his mouth. He watches me as he brushes and spits. A little toothpaste remains on his lip. Slowly, I reach out and wipe it off.

His hands land on my hips. And suddenly I’m not leaning against the counter. I’m sitting on it. Gray watches me closely as he reaches for the knot holding the towel up and then jerks it open.

“You really don’t like this towel, huh?” My voice sounds breathy. Eager.

“I really like pulling it off of you.” He steps closer so that he’s standing between my legs. His bare skin brushes against mine.

“Is this why you spent the night?”

He considers my question, then says, “I’ve never had sex in a bathroom.”

I study him. “Never?”

“Never,” he confirms.