But do I dial back the dickhead? No, no I do not.
“Nope,” I say, holding the offending nightshirt up and out of her reach.
“What the heck? You are seriously withholding my nightshirt?”
I shrug, committing to my assholery. “Call me a sexist caveman all you want, but I’m not sleeping next to you while you wear some douchebag ex’s shirt to bed.”
And what does Lucy do?
She laughs.
“It’s not some douchebag ex’s. It’s mine.”
“Yeah, it’s yours now,” I counter. “Where’d you get it?”
She reaches for the shirt, so I toss it across the room.
“Caleb, you are being ridiculous,” she huffs, pulling the sheets up around her shoulders. I feel like an asshole, probably because I am an asshole. Who knew I was the jealous type?
“I don’t know where I got it,” she continues. “And I can’t check because you threw my shirt behind the couch. But if I had to guess...The Gap? Maybe Old Navy? Possibly Target. I don’t remember. But it’s comfy and warm and roomy.Pajama pants are a no go for me. If I get them wide enough to fit my ass, they're too loose at the waist. And don't lecture me about drawstrings. They're insufficient.”
Christ. I really am a dick. But I don’t dare crack a smile during her lecture.“I solemnly promise to never lecture you about drawstrings,” I say,pushing off the bed and bending down to rummage through my hastily-packed duffle bag. “What about this?” I pull a waffle knit Henley from my bag and hold it up. It’s one of my favorites. It’s a sky-blue color and it’s really soft.
Wordlessly, Lucy takes it from me, steps out of the bed, and slips it on. It hugs her hips and barely covers her ass. She fingers the worn fabric and looks at me, a sweet smile on her lips. “Is this better?”
“Fuck, yes,” I say. “Now take it off.”
“But I just put it on.”
“Yeah, but the sight of your tits and hips and ass in my shirt? I’m about to lose my damn mind, Lucy Evelyn. So maybe you should get naked and join me.”
Lucy peels off my shirt and crawls into bed, resting her head on my chest and letting her fingers wander down my abs.
“It hasn’t been twenty minutes yet,” she teases.
I guide her hand to my cock, then cover it with my own. “Turns out that when I’m naked with you, my recovery time is about two minutes. Maybe less.”
She smiles but stills her hand. “We should set up rules. Like, guidelines.”
“Ok,” I agree. “Rule number one, if it feels good, we do it. There. We’ve got a rule.”
For the 987th time in her life, Lucy rolls her eyes at me. “You know what I mean. This can’t last, Caleb. Our parents are married. We’ll never be more than…this. We’re going to indulge in a night of absolute decadence, but it ends in the morning.”
She’s right. I know she is. That’s the way it has to be. My mom deserves the damn world, and I’m not going to ruin her hard-won happiness just because I can’t keep my dick in my pants when Lucy and I are in the same zip code. Nope. But I’m also not going to fret and panic and write out a list of rules. I’m going to enjoy every minute of our night together. If this is the only night we have, I’m for damn sure going to make it count.
* * *
I’m a cuddler.I always have been. I like to make a nest of blankets and burrow in. As long as I take my sleeping pill, I can sleep just about anywhere, which is good considering I’ve woken up in a (dry) bathtub, in the bed of a truck, and some pretty shitty frat house basements.
But today, as my eyes open to the early morning sunlight streaming in through the blinds, I cuddle up to Lucy, only to realize I’m alone. Her side of the bed is cold, but I can hear the shower running, so at least I know she hasn’t run off with my keys and my car.
I stretch out on the bed, filling the space with my long limbs and wiping the sleep from my eyes. The past forty-eight hours have been a bit of a mindfuck, but I’m not complaining. Two nights of Lucy underneath me, on top of me, and curled up next to me is like a dream come true. And yes, I’m taking her home today, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping she’d invite me to spend the night at her place. You know, give the weary traveler some rest and all that. And, you know, maybe a blow job…
Just like that, my morning wood reaches its full potential and I’m naked in a bed, hard as a post and thinking of Lucy. But that’s nothing new.
The shower turns off and I smile, thinking of her stacked body in just that skimpy towel. She opens the door and seems surprised to find me awake.
“Oh, good,” she says briskly, bustling around the room, “you’re awake. We should get going. There’s a coffee shop across the street, if you want to stop for a caffeine fix or something to eat?”
