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But what if she hasn’t signed hers yet?

The rules would be broken by only one of the parties involved in the tryst, so it would be a “glass half-full/half-empty” kind of situation.

It’s a possibility, far-fetched, wild, and forbidden, but I decide I like it. Therapy is supposed to start tomorrow. What’s one broken rule before treatment has started? You can’t break something that she hasn’t agreed to yet.

They would understand.

We’ve already been labeled as addicts so we’re not here for the free coffee, right? We’re here to get help. I bet they evenexpectus to have a relapse or two along the way to recovery.

I’m so absorbed in my own thoughts that I barely register the footsteps thudding down the hallway.

The knock on my door startles me.

“Jesus. How long does it take you to get done?” she mutters, probably thinking I can’t hear her through the closed door.

More knocking, louder this time.

Good grief.

Is she trying to break down the door?

“Why the fuck can’t you just give me a few moments?” I yell, trying to sound angry, but I can’t help the amusement creeping into my voice.

“Your ten minutes are over.”

I groan, more out of desperation than out of frustration. “Another minute.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

Bossy much?

The steps retreat.

I smile and jump up from the bed.

This is going to be interesting.

As soon asI enter the living room, her relaxed expression turns into another frown.

“What took you so long?” She scans my white robe. “Is this is what you call dressed?”

“Which one do you want me to answer first?”

“Sorry?”

“You asked two questions,” I explain patiently. “Which one do you want answered first?”

The slightest hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her luscious lips. “I’m just saying you should put in more effort if you’re sharing your apartment with someone. Wearing proper clothing is one of those things that don’t require much effort on anyone’s part.”

“What’s wrong with my robe?” I glance down, my hand brushing over the white fabric.

“It’s called having manners.”

“Are you implying that I don’t have any?” I wink. “Sweetheart, if you knew me, you wouldn’t make such a statement. This is a major trade up. I’m usually naked.”

“Naked?” She draws out the word. At the same time, her gaze is drawn to my lap. “Yes. I sleep naked, I cook naked, and I fuck naked, if you have to know.”

“Whoa. Hold your horses.” She holds up a hand to stop me from saying more and lets out another long breath. “Jeez. I knew you were a sex addict, but seriously, there’s no need to go into detail.”