In glasses and wearing what I thought was an in-joke, I walked into Brock’s bedroom only to find Brock didn’t think my nightie was funny. I knew this when his eyes hit me, his whole face got dark, the air in the room became so sweltering it felt like it was pressing against my skin, and the minute I got close to the bed, he moved. Lunging toward me, his arm hooked me at the waist and he yanked me into the bed, pulled off my glasses, tossed them unheeded on the nightstand, and we started up again. This time, from start to finish, it was wild and energetic. No pleasant exploration, no lazy caresses. It was hot, heavy, and completely abandoned.

I answered his question with, “Actually, it’s kinda comfy.”

His head came up and he looked down at me. “Good, ’cause I like it.”

I grinned at him and whispered, “I kinda got that.”

He grinned back and his head descended so his mouth could touch mine then it slid down my cheek to work at my neck, slow, lazy, and sweet.

His hips moved slightly as he pulled out gently and I drew in a soft breath at the feel of it and the fact I didn’t like the loss of him. My arms gave him a squeeze as my head turned.

In his ear, I whispered, “I have to go get cleaned up.”

His head came up, his sated eyes caught mine, and he whispered back, “All right, baby.”

His face dipped to my throat, his lips touched me there, and he rolled off.

I rolled the other way, got off the bed, snatched up my panties, and headed to his bathroom.

The good news was, his bathroom was clean, though he could use new towels since he clearly bought his in the same year he bought his pickup and his furniture. Not to mention, the bathroom had been installed before The Brady Bunch was in reruns.

Still, it wasn’t icky, which was what I decided to focus on.

I did my thing, slid on my panties, and bent over the basin to look at myself in the mirror.

Hair wild, face flushed, lips swollen, nipples still hard against the silk, I stared and for the first time in my entire life, taking in my reflection, I thought I might be a little bit of all right.

Then I grinned, turned out the light, and walked back into the bedroom.

Brock was leaning across the bed and turning off the light at my side. As I joined him, he was faced the other way and turning off the light at his.

When he was done, he reached out to me, gathered me in his arms, pulled my front close to his, tangled his long legs with mine, and his arm slanted up my back so his hand was in my hair, pulled me deeper as he pushed my face against his chest.