Also, his chest. Holy shit, his chest. I had wondered what was underneath all those perfectly laundered, crisp button-downs. And here was my answer: tight muscle and soft dark hair, smooth skin that stretched on for days. If Hayes’s chest was already the death of me, I might not live long enough to see him fully naked.

“My pants are stuck,” I said, gesturing at my ankles. “Can you just, you know, yank them off?”

“Is this your version of dirty talk, Franny?” He smirked at me. Fuck, he was hot when he flirted.

I leaned back on the bed and lifted my legs, and Hayes pulled my jeans off in one swift motion. His pants dropped more easily to the floor, and he kicked them to the side and then climbed over me, sliding a knee next to my hip.

“Hi,” I said, gazing up at him, his damp hair falling forward and touching my forehead.

“Hey,” he said back, holding my gaze.

“Our underwear is wet too. We should probably take that off.”

He nodded gravely. “I would hate to get your bed all wet,” he said. Together, we slid back, our heads on the pillows, his hand tracing a line down my arm, across my ribs. He unhooked my bra with a flick of his fingers.

“Wow,” I said, shifting the straps off my shoulders. “One hand.”

“I’m good with my hands,” he said, a lopsided grin creeping across his face.

“Oh my god, who are you?” I laughed a kiss onto his mouth.

“You set me up with that one,” he said. “But it’s also true.”

I pushed his boxer briefs down, then let him slide them off his legs as I lifted my hips and dragged my own underwear off slowly, knowing his eyes were on every move I made.

He ran a hand down to my calf and up my thigh, planting soft kisses on my stomach.

“I have condoms in my drawer,” I said, cutting to the chase.

He looked up at me, sliding back so our faces were flush. “Is all this okay?”

“This is the most okay thing to happen to me in a long time.” I laid a hand on his cheek. “But if you want, we can slow down. Take a break. Go get some coffee from Café New York.”

“Oh god,” he groaned, remembering our awkward NYN coffee date. “For you, I would.” He laughed as he kissed me gently, letting his mouth move from my lips to my brow, to my neck, and then my shoulder. “What do you think,” he said, his voice breathy, “that girl who took those pictures of us on the subway would say if she could see us now?”

“I think she’d be pleased at how right she was.” I rolled my hips against him, the pressure of his body a pull I was unable to resist. “That we might just be Subway QTs after all.”