Page 108 of Done with You

She shook her head again. “Just hand me my underwear, I’m going to have a shower.”

Scrunching his nose in confusion, he snatched her cute baby-blue briefs off the floor and handed them to her. She shoved them between her legs to catch what would have to come out, then stood up and walked to the back of the door where she grabbed the housecoat.

“I um … I could use help scrubbing my back,” she said, opening the bedroom door and glancing over her shoulder at him with a half-smile.

“You definitely could,” he said, a smile in his voice. “It’s a filthy back.”

Then he followed her into the bathroom, closed the door and tackled her into the shower.

Chapter Twenty-One

“What in the ever-loving fuck is that white shit?” Rayma said, letting the drapes fall back down in front of the window and turning to face Oona, a terrified expression on her face.

“Snow?” Oona asked.

“Yeah, but what is it doing falling from the sky?”

“Ummm … I don’t know if this is meant to be a rhetorical question or …”

“It’s meant to be what the absolute fuck? It’s the day before my … sorry, our, wedding and it snowed seven inches overnight. And it’s still fucking falling. Do you know what happens in this city when it snows like this? Everything shuts down. And I mean everything. Buses stop running, babies are told to stay in the womb, even the twenty-four-seven pizza places don’t open. We don’t have enough plows in the city to support this kind of bullshit weather. This is not good. Not good at all.”

She was still in her pajamas—they all were—huddled up in the living room with coffee—Oona with her tea—as Rayma paced like a caged wildcat.

“Lassie, why aren’t you freaking out?” she asked, her eyes wide and surprised as her tone grew harsh.

“Because we can’t control the weather?” Jordan replied, but in the form of a question, glancing at Oona for help.

“I was an idiot for thinking we should get married in the winter. There is a reason weddings are mostly held in the spring and summer. Because you don’t run into the wrath of Mother Nature nearly as much. Sure, she might throw a wild fire at you, or a freak rainstorm, but not this!” She pulled open the drapes again to reveal an absolute white-out. “This is fucked up. Mother Nature is a bitch and deserves global warming when she pulls this crap on us.” Suddenly she spun around to face Oona, her eyes wide and wild. “What if our mother is Mother Nature and this is her way of telling me I told you so? What if she’s doing this to smite me?”

“I don’t think Mom is Mother Nature,” Oona said. Though, Rayma did have a point. Mother Nature was behaving an awful lot like Yanna Young.

Aiden and Oona exchanges amused, yet sympathetic glances with each other across the apartment. Oona was curled up under a blanket on the couch sipping her tea, while Aiden was in the kitchen flipping pancakes on a griddle and making fresh whipped cream. He’d been awake before any of them and when they all woke up, he had coffee—and tea—ready, as well as pancake mix ready to go and frozen berries stewing on the stove.

They’d had sex again last night in the shower, and a few parts of her (her clit, vagina and the rest of her erogenous zones to be precise) wanted to invite him to stay in her bed, but her brain finally won the battle over her horny body parts, and made him return to his pull-out in the living room.

But those erogenous zones of hers still tingled from last night and the longer she stared at his mouth while he cooked, the more she wanted it back on her body.

She was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking because the sexy smirk that curled the corners of his mouth as he stared down into the bowl of whipping cream, he was hand whipping, was pure arrogance. And crap of craps it was turning her on.

“Now, I can’t finish my Christmas shopping,” Rayma said.

“What did you still have to buy?” Jordan asked her.

“Mostly just your stocking stuff, and a few things for Joy and Grant.”

“I’m fine not having anything in my stocking,” Jordan said. “Coupons for blowjobs are perfectly acceptable.” He snorted, so did Aiden. Rayma gave him the middle finger. “And you know Joy and Grant are adamant that we not buy for them.”

Rayma glared at him, and swatted her hand at an invisible fly. “And who listens to that?”

“Nobody,” he conceded.

“Exactly.”

“Either way, if that’s all you have left to buy, I think it’s okay if we stay inside today,” Jordan went on. “I really don’t need anything for my stocking, and Joy and Grant will understand.”

Rayma huffed, then flopped dramatically onto the couch beside Oona, jostling Oona’s tea. “This is a disaster.”

Jordan brought up his phone and as he scrolled, his brows bunched tighter and tighter. Then he murmured, “Fuck,” under his breath.

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