Page 76 of Steamy Ever After

Elated and numb, I stretch out with my bathrobe open, my eyes transfixed on the ceiling, when a sound right outside my door paralyzes my limbs.

A floorboard creaked, I’m sure of it, but there’s no way, because I’m alone.

I am alone, right?

I tug my bathrobe shut, tying it with an extra knot, then tiptoe to my door and press my ear against it, struggling to hear. Except for the distant knocking of the washing machine, there’s only silence, but something tells me someone is there. Standing right outside my door.

Panicked, my stomach lurches and my eyes scan my room, searching for something to use as a weapon. I guess my curling iron could work, but it wouldn’t cause much damage unless it’s plugged in. I can’t think of anything except how much I would kill for Joe to be home right now.

I tiptoe back to my bed and reach for my phone, rushing to type a text.

Help! I think someone’s in the apartment.

My heart races as I press send, but a second later, I hear a faint ding coming from the other side of my door. Five seconds later, my phone lights up.

You mean someone other than me?

I drop the phone into my pocket and rush to the door, throwing it open. Lo-and-behold, I find Joe doubled over, laughing so hard he has tears running down his cheeks.

JOE

Change of plans. Too tired. Rain check?

My wing-man bailing for tonight puts a small kink in my plans. I know I could totally go out without Will, but I’m not feeling it anymore. Even if I was counting on hooking up tonight, the more I think of getting ready and going out to the club, the more tired I feel.

I hoist the garbage bag into the shoot, then type out my response as I return to the apartment: All good. Another time.

Inside, I throw a quick glance down the hall and see Jane’s bedroom door is closed. She must have gone to bed.

I fall onto the couch with a long moan. This thing is so comfortable; it must have cost her a fortune. It’s like sinking into a cloud wrapped in goose feathers.

Bored, I scroll through Facebook and consider watching TV, but then remember my clothes in the washer. Fearing another dose of Jane’s wrath, I reluctantly drag myself to the laundry room.

On the floor, a dark pile of clothing catches my eye.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss, seeing Jane’s load spinning around in the washing machine.

I eye the bottle of bleach on the shelf above, consider repaying the favor, but shake my head. Not worth it.

I pick my clothes off the floor, holding back on dishing out some instant karma, then throw them in the dryer.

Fuming, I rush toward her room. I’m aware she was in a pissy mood when she got home—I could see it in her eyes—but I don’t give a shit if she’s asleep or not. This war ends now.

When I reach her door, a small, muffled sound makes my fist stop mid-air. I tilt my head to listen.

It’s moaning. Low, writhing and sexy as hell, moaning. Moaning that reaches into my pants and strokes my cock, immediately making me hard.

I realize I shouldn’t be standing outside her door eavesdropping like some pervert, but how can I walk away?

One foot in front of the other, that’s how.

All right, I know how, I just don’t want to. Considering I’m not going out tonight and how fucking hard up I’ve been lately, this is a blessing in disguise, isn’t it?

You could watch porn, my reasonable conscience points out, but I ignore it.

The more I listen to what’s coming from the other side of Jane’s door, the more I recognize other sounds, specific ones I’d hear if I did the responsible thing and went to my bedroom. I stick my tongue into my cheek and grin. This is too good to be true.

Goody-two-shoes Jane Donati is masturbating while watching porn.

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