We collapse back onto the pillows, Jack taking my hand in his, locking our fingers together as we catch our breath. Once his breathing has steadied, Jack climbs out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom and returning a second later with a damp washcloth. We clean ourselves up and he slides back under the covers, tucking me into his embrace.

We don’t say another word. We don’t need to. We just wrap ourselves around each other and fall into a blissful sleep.

I wake up first, stretching slowly and carefully, making sure I don’t stir Jack out of sleep. Moving an inch at a time, I slip out from under the covers, grabbing my shirt and panties before heading into the bathroom. I spend more time in there than I really need, low-key freaking out about walking back into my room and finding it empty.

Though even if I did, the farthest Jack could go is down the hall to his own room.

Because we live together. Fuck.

I spent the previous night with my lips seemingly permanently attached to my roommate’s. Not just my roommate, my landlord. The man who could decide to kick me out of his house at any time. If and when I mess this up, he can send my entire carefully constructed financial-spreadsheet life plan into total upheaval.

And yeah, I realize Jack knows me fairly well by now—I’m not exactly shy—but what are the chances his perfect self can actually handle my asshole self for the long term?

My heartbeat picks up speed and my chest tightens.

I flick down the lid of the toilet and collapse onto the seat, tucking my head between my knees.

I really fucked it up this time.

I’m 1,000 percent sure Jack is currently scrambling back to his room and will spend the rest of his day—the rest of his life—trying to avoid me, forever regretting his one-time lapse in judgment that ended with his hands down my pants.

I squeeze my thighs together, the memory alone enough to make me ache for him.

Once I’ve given Jack plenty of time to get the hell out of dodge, I creep back into my room. He’s still there, still asleep, still burrowed under my covers. He’s on his stomach, his hands tucked under the pillow. If I didn’t know better, I might think he’s smiling in his sleep. But that can’t possibly be. There’s no way he could truly be happy after what happened between us.