Page 65 of The Romance Line

Heat roars low in my stomach. This is so fucking necessary. I can’t last another minute without this release. I’m too wound up with want. And I can’t stand how much I want her.

One more inhale. “Fuck it.”

Letting go of my dick for a second, I switch the fabric to my right hand, turning them inside out. Then I grip my dick with the cotton panel.

They’re still a little wet from her, and the idea of getting off with her arousal fries my brain. It short-circuits my entire body. It sends me spinning. I fuck my fist harder with the sheer lace and cotton, jerking and stroking till my thoughts blank out and my vision blurs.

I’m grunting as sparks burst before my eyes. Then punching my hips and spilling all over my hand and her expensive panties.

It’s so wrong.

I can’t even catch my breath for a long time.

After, my eyes float open finally, and I reconnect to the earth. I swing my gaze down to my hand. I’ve ruined the lace. But I smirk at the mess.

Worth it. Fucking worth it.

Then, I blink. “The fuck?”

Athena’s perched on the coffee table across from me, staring sharply with unblinking green eyes.

“Don’t judge me,” I mutter.

She turns the other way, lifting a haughty, furry chin.

“You saw nothing,” I tell her.

She twitches her tail more. Judging me. Fucking judging me.

But then again, I’m sitting on my couch with my pants down, my dick out, holding a pair of the world’s sexiest panties covered in my come.

I’d judge me too.

Fifteen minutes later, I’ve showered and cleaned up. After I hang up the fluffy bath towel next to the rainfall shower, I pad across the soft carpet in my bedroom suite and enter the walk-in closet. I grab a pair of black boxer briefs from a drawer and pull them on, then head to bed. I sink down on the soft gray duvet on the king-size bed.

I yawn, relaxed at last. But even though we have a game tomorrow, it’s not bedtime yet.

Settling onto the pillows, I grab my phone, the lights of the city flickering from beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Time for some detective work. There’s no brand name on the tag. Just a size. No way am I going to ask Everly what brand that was. Instead, I googleaqua sheer panties covered in rosesand visit seven different lingerie shops online before I find one that looks right.

“Bingo,” I say. Then I place an order for rush delivery tomorrow afternoon.

I close the browser and hop over to my text messages, opening the thread with Everly. I start to tap out a message, letting her know to be on the lookout for a package.

But then, screw it. I’d rather surprise her.

I set my phone down, blow out a very satisfied sigh, and park my hands behind my head. I’m sated.

Well, for now.

There’s a soft sound, and I turn to the right. A quiet furball slinks across the bed, and curls up next to my neck. In seconds, she’s purring and I’m forgiven.

In the morning, I’m pouring a cup of coffee in the kitchen while texting with my dad about bagels. He’s started sending me daily pics of them, and I don’t know why but I fucking love pics of bagels from my parents.Looks delish, I respond to today’s so-called Bagel of the Day, when a new text blinks up at me from my phone. A damning text.

Everly: You took my panties.

I down some coffee, letting it wake me up before I dictate a reply.