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When his tongue strokes into my mouth at the same time as he twists his wrist, applying the best kind of pressure to my dick, I come faster than I would have liked, spilling over his stomach with a sound I don’t try to muffle.

For a long moment, all I can do is breathe.

His fingers draw slow circles at the base of my spine, and I contemplate the merits of telling my family I’ve come down with a super-infectious cold.

“We need to shower,” he says.

“Mm.”

Eventually, I peel myself off him and pull him upright with me. We shuffle into the bathroom together. Fox grabs the soap and massages my chest and down my belly. My dick wants to rally, but after four orgasms within the last seven hours, nothing’s going to happen down there.

I grab my shampoo and wash his hair.

He kisses the water off my collarbone, and I kiss the water off his temple. Neither of us says anything about the fact that this is the last morning we get to do this.

Or, at least, we don’t say it aloud.

I know he’s thinking it. I can tell by the way his hands linger.

We’re rinsing off when my phone rings from the bedroom.

Fox looks at me.

“Ignore it.”

“Fox, it’s not even eight on Thanksgiving morning.”

“Which is why nobody has anything urgent to say to you.”

“Or exactly the opposite.”

The phone keeps ringing.

I sigh, kiss him, and duck out from under the spray, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist as I pad to the bedroom.

The phone is on the nightstand, Mayor Caldwell’s name on the screen.

I stare at the screen for a second, my whole body already tensing.

“Mayor?”

“Griffin, thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s been a gas leak in the town square. The fire department’s already on scene. I need you down here immediately.”

For a second, I don’t move.

“A gas leak?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen the commotion from your apartment. This is a serious one. Chief Morrison’s already there. I need you on-site to help us assess how this affects the Christmas Festival.”

“I’m on my way.” I hang up.

Fox is in the bathroom doorway now, a towel wrapped low around his hips, water still dripping down his chest. His eyebrows are drawn together.

“What’s happened?”