“How was work?” she asks.
“Fine.” I shrug out of my jacket and set it on the chair by the door.
She’s watchingAcademy of Ghosts. Figures. I created a monster.
Takes one to know one.
Her black panties are burning a hole in my jeans pocket.
She stretches, her arms spreading out and causing her T-shirt to rise up and show a sliver of her midriff.
The memory hits me of her belly chain dangling in that exact spot. Gage pulling apart the sides of that silky robe to show her off.
If I take these panties into my room, I’m jerking off into them, no doubt.
If I hand them over, we’re going to be reminded all over again—together—of what we did that night.
Maybe she’s as aroused as I am.
Maybe something could come of it.
A repeat performance, perhaps.
“Hey.” I clear my throat. “Gage wanted me to give you something.”
11
Dmitri
Leah looks up sharply at the mention of Gage’s name. “What is it?”
I tug the underwear from my pocket.
Her breath hitches. “Tell me those aren’t what I think they are.”
I dangle them from my fingers. “Gage had them. He washed them, wanted me to return them to you. I thought of throwing them away.”
“Why didn’t you?”
A thousand reasons knock through my brain. None of them make sense. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, give me the damn underwear.” She scoots her blanket off my side of the couch, inviting me to sit down.
I ignore the couch, and I don’t hand her the panties.
“Dmitri? I can’t believe I have to say this out loud,again, but give me my underwear.”
I twirl them around my finger. “Come and get them.”
She lets out a single, incredulous laugh. “Oh, it’son.”
Then, she leaps at me.
I hold the underwear up high. She tries to climb me like she’s a fucking monkey or something. She dangles from my shoulders, wraps her legs around me, tries to hoist herself up to the ceiling where I’m holding her panties hostage.
“You—are—such—an—asshole.” She makes another desperate leap.
She slides down my body, tries to jump again. I’m not expecting it and we start to fall.