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I tilted my head. “Your brother lives across the street, right?”
He nodded, his green eyes studying my face, and wondering where I was going with this.
“And what if we—err, or someone else with you, eventually—start to get busy in the living room. And it’s dark outside, and there are lights on inside, and you have no blinds?” I paint the picture for him. “Do you care if they see?”
His eyes darkened. “You mean, what if I fuck the hell out of you in my living room, and I want to keep it a bit more private than sharing you with the world?”
“I just said that,” I said, cheeks on fire.
“I don’t mind people seeing, but only when I want them to see,” he whispered against my ear, making shivers track down my spine. “Get the ones without strings.”
We got twenty-eight sets of blinds, and curtains for the large windows in his living room that wouldn’t allow for anything but custom-made blinds.
By the time we were getting toilet brushes and toilet paper holders, I was a burning mess of need.
And he knew it.
The best thing about having a penis is sharing it with people who don’t.
—Quaid to Ellodie
QUAID
I could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife.
By the time she was asking me which toilet brush I wanted, I couldn’t take it anymore.
Pulling out the ones that looked like they could be fancy yet still useful, I tossed them into the cart, then caught her hand and the cart’s handle and started to guide us away.
“Hey, there’s still paper towel dispensers!”
I left the cart at the end of the aisle and said, “We’ll have to come back.”
I guided her out of the Home Goods and into the mall, unsurprised to find it a whole lot busier than where we just were.
“Where are we going?” she whispered furiously as she tried to keep up with my long stride.
I reluctantly slowed down, even though I wanted to do anything but.
“To a place that I can get you alone for a few minutes,” I admitted openly.
She closed her mouth with a snap and sped up right along with me.
We went through a crowd of teens who looked like they were shady as fuck, but for once my cop brain didn’t kick into gear. It was focused on one and only one thing.
The bathroom at the end of the hall to my left.
We turned, and she started whispering furiously. “Where are we going?”
“There’s a bathroom at the end of this hall,” I admitted. “No one ever uses it because it’s hard to find.”
And sure enough, it was empty.
Pulling her into the room and closing the door, I slammed the lock home, then turned to her.
She was already shimmying out of her shorts.
It was the middle of June, and hot as fuck out, warranting the entire population of Texas to wear shorts. I shouldn’t be this affected by them, but the moment she’d come out of her room wearing them and a tank top tucked in, I’d been on edge.
