Page 46 of The Woman with the Wallet

The lure of that tub had me going back out to the other room and digging around in my duffle bag for the bleach wipes I always kept on me. There were some habits that died hard from my days on the streets. Like never taking food or warmth for granted. Like having trouble sleeping at night. And, of course, carrying just about everything with me that I could need to survive.

I’d downsized my purse since I was bringing the overnight bag, but I had food, electrolytes, spare gloves, a hat, a Mylar blanket, medicine, body wipes, bleach wipes, and disposable toothbrushes.

I had to talk myself out of packing more.

But I was glad for the bleach to be able to give the tub a little extra clean before rinsing it down and filling it, letting my fingers wiggle under the faucet as it filled, chasing the chill out of them and bringing their color back.

I stripped and slipped into the water, letting it ease the tension in my muscles from the stakeout. But finally alone, with the water teasing across my skin like a caress each time I shifted positions, the other kind of tension built once again in me.

To be fair, half the day had been spent trying to remind myself not to take deep breaths of his cologne, not to accidentally-on-purpose let our bodies brush, to stop letting my mind think of those strong hands of his moving from the gear shift and sliding up my thigh instead.

My own hand was following that direction without my even realizing it.

Objectively, it was probably not a good idea to engage in some self-satisfaction to the idea of Miko when life was going to keep forcing us together until this whole diamond fiasco was handled.But my the time my fingers teased to the top of my thigh, there was no stopping their path inward, between.

My head fell back on the porcelain as a little gasp escaped me, surprised by how needy I already felt, how sensitive to the tiniest of brushes I was.

I let my eyelids drift closed as my finger teased around my clit, while my other slid up my belly to squeeze my breasts, to tease my nipples to the idea of Miko’s hands, lips, teeth.

It wasn’t long before my fingers were slipping inside me, imagining Miko’s longer, thicker ones rocking inside of me, his palm pressed against my clit as he worked me, whispering wicked things in my ear. As he pulled back, then surged inside of me.

I came with a strangled cry at just the thought of that, my body trembling with the intensity as the pleasure rolled through me, keeping control over me for what felt like ages.

Until, of course, the post-orgasm haze faded.

And I was left with reality.

Which was a cold, wet blanket over any lingering desire, making me climb out of the tub.

The whole time I dried off and slathered on my lotion—that brown sugar sweetness that had been my first ‘luxury’ self-care product I’d purchased when Megs and I first got an apartment of our own and had a few extra bucks lying around.

It literally cost less than a cup of coffee, but at the time, it had been complete decadence. I was oddly attached to it. So much so that even all these years later, I couldn’t use anything else. I even panic-bought backups in case they ever decided to stop making it.

Finished, I dressed and made my way out of my room just in time to hear a soft knock on the wall.

“Come to the door, you idiot,” I called, tone light.

“This is a door, sugar,” he called, that voice like a caress over my warm, satisfied body.

“What?” I asked, following his voice to the wall where there was, of course, a door. Curious, I slid the lock and pulled it open. To find Miko standing there in his own hotel room. His jacket was off, a few buttons undone. “I thought this was the closet,” I admitted.

“Closet is on the other side,” he said, nodding behind me, making me turn to find another door.

“Right. I didn’t think adjoining rooms existed anymore.”

“They use them for families with kids, I think. But it works for us too. You feeling hungry yet, or is all that cherry plastic still holding you over?” he teased.

“Strawberry,” I corrected. “But, yeah, I’m starving, actually. But also… lazy.”

“We can order in. Or order up. They have a full menu. Though, it’s fancy shit.”

“Which means the serving size is only enough to satisfy a toddler’s appetite.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, waving toward my room, a silent request to be let inside.

I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I moved out of the way and watched him stride into my space.

I did not look at his round, firm ass as he passed. Well, not for long anyway.

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