I should've gone to the bathroom.
Should've taken a cold shower.
Should've left the apartment the second she disappeared into that room and shut the door.
But here I was. Still sitting on her couch. In the dark. Blanket half-pulled over my lap, beer can on the table, and a fucking hard-on that just wouldn't quit.
I leaned my head back against the couch and let out a slow breath through my nose.
The whole place smelled like her.
The citrus shampoo. That soft lotion she wore. The one I only caught when she passed too close.
My hand twitched against my thigh.
I glanced toward her door. Closed.
Silent.
Still.
And that's when my hand slipped under the blanket.
Slow.
Like I wasn't really going to do it.
But I was.
I palmed myself through my briefs, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I exhaled hard. Fuck.
I was already aching.
So fucking sensitive that one touch made my hips buck a little.
"Jesus, Aria…" I breathed.
My imagination didn't need help tonight.
