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“Give me a minute,” I said, my voice a bit strangled. “I’ll be out in a minute. Then we can talk about it like grown-ups.”
A pause. Then she laughed. “Fair. Very sensible.” I heard the door click shut.
I stood under the water for a long time, half of me congratulating myself and the other half calling me an idiot.
When I came out in a towel, she’d turned the lights down and was in bed in a black vest top, on the far side, the covers pulled up. She’d made a little wall of pillows down the middle.
“Your half,” she said, patting the other side. “Reception can sort it in the morning. I’m too tired to fight anyone.”
So I got in. In my boxers, on my side of the pillow wall, staring at the ceiling and listening to her breathe in the dark.
“Liam,” she said after a while.
“Yeah?”
“That was a very gentlemanly thing you did. In the shower.”
“Thanks.”
“I hated it.” I heard the smile in her voice. Then the rustle of a pillow being moved. “This wall’s stupid.”
Her hand found my stomach under the covers. Warm, unhurried. It rested there, then slid lower, fingertips tracing along the waistband of my boxers. My cock pushed up against the cotton to meet her.
“Is this alright?” she whispered.
Her hand was right there. And her face was right there too, inches from mine on the pillow.