I can’t keep thinking about the dirty, early morning activities between me and Travis, or else I’ll wind up needing to jerk off. And there’s no way I’m doing that in front of a chicken. Seems like it could be a felony.

God, that was so hot though.

Last night when I asked Travis to practice kissing again, my motives weren’t entirely pure. Yes, I really need Elise and Grant to believe we’re a couple. But maybe even more so in that moment, I needed to know if it was a fluke or not. The way our first practice kiss rocked my world.

Turns out, it wasn’t a fluke.

I went to sleep worrying about how my attraction to Travis was spiraling out of control. Then when I woke up to his hard dick pressed against my ass, my worry switched off, and all I could think was more, more, more.

It felt like maybe there was a chance he was attracted to me too. So I stepped into the bathroom with him, knowing full well what he was doing in there. It was probably crazy, but I couldn’t waste the opportunity to shoot my shot. I know Travis well enough that I figured if he wasn’t interested, he’d at least reject me nicely.

Seeing him with his hand wrapped around that thick, gorgeous cock made my mouth go dry. And then I got weirdly shy and nervous and didn’t actually do anything. I just stood there watching him get himself off, and then I let him get me off too. Selfish.

Next time, I’ll do better. Next time I’ll show him what I can do.

“Ouch!”

A sharp pain on the top of my foot makes me drop the remote mid-scroll, but thankfully I keep hold of my wine glass. Looking down, I find Delilah standing right in front of the couch. Did she just beak me?

“What are you doing?” I ask stupidly. “Mitch said you’d lie on your bed and not move.”

She squawks, then turns her head to side-eye me.

“Go back over there,” I say, pointing.

At this, she flaps her wings threateningly.

“Delilah,” I warn.

And then she flies up and lands on my lap, and suddenly it’s all sharp claws and a flurry of feathers and red wine sloshing onto the couch.

“Shit!”

I jump up, dislodging the giant bird, who proceeds to squawk and flap her wings again.

Oh no.

Before I have any chance of stopping her, she flies off, knocking over a lamp on my end table. It smashes against the edge and breaks as it falls to the floor.

I scream out another curse as I lunge for the feathered menace, but I barely manage to graze a wing. She’s squawking and hopping and flying all over the room now, both of us equally frantic.