Page 60 of Felix

Holy—

“Yes,” I squeak out. “Um, sure. That’d be fine.”

He nods, dropping his foot back to the floor and standing. “Do you have face wash I can use?”

“Uh, yeah. In the cabinet behind the mirror.”

“Thanks,” he says, walking from the room.

I stand there. Staring at the empty doorway. Contemplating my life.

I get changed for bed while Christian is in the bathroom. It doesn’t take long for him to return, his makeup gone and his face looking freshly washed. Some of his hair is a little wet, too, as if it got dampened during the process.

“Do you have something I can wear?” he asks, tugging his see-through shirt off over his head. His belly chain shifts as the fabric rolls over it, but then it settles once more along the curves of his stomach. He folds his shirt before setting it on my desk. “Specs?”

“Um, yeah,” I say, heading to my dresser.

“Can I have the bottoms with the crabs?” he asks, a soft sort of amusement in his voice. “They’re my favorite.”

My cheeks flame, more at the knowledge of Christian knowing what I wear at night—having seen me through the window, of course—than embarrassment over the print on the pajamas. I grab them from the drawer, grateful that they’re clean. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says, unceremoniously unzipping and dropping his skirt.

I swallow my tongue. And my moan.

Christian pulls the pajama bottoms on, covering his skimpy black thong. He sets to work taking off his jewelry next, and I get caught up in watching the process. The way he handles the silver chain is mesmerizing.

“Not the most comfortable to sleep in,” he says, catching my eye.

“Sure,” I manage. “Does, um… Does it ever get caught during sex?”

He huffs a small laugh, setting the neatly rolled chain on his folded shirt and then picking up his skirt from the floor, adding it to the pile. “It can happen, yeah. The tug isn’t pleasant.”

“I can imagine,” I mutter, making a mental note to be extra cautious next time Christian wears one during our scenes.

“Ready?” he asks.

My mouth pops open. “For?”

He cocks his head slightly, a small smile on his face. “Bed, Specs.”

Oh God. Right. Bed.

“Of course,” I say quickly. “Um, did you want a shirt?”

“No, that’s okay,” Christian says, throwing back my sheets and climbing onto the mattress. He sinks into place opposite my normal position, and something about that makes my head reel. “Coming?”

“Yep.”

I hit the light, and then I carefully scoot into bed next to Christian. He still smells like wintergreen, all fresh and light. I set my glasses aside before trying to close my eyes.

“Hey, Specs?”

“Yeah?” I answer, voice quiet.

“I’ve never slept in a bed with anyone before.”

The admission shocks me. “No?”

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