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She wasn’t into women in that way. Maybe she was. Mira rolled over and groaned into her pillow. Now wasn’t the time to be reconsidering everything about her sexuality, her relationships, her desires…

She took a long breath in, then out. It slowed her thoughts but didn’t make her any less desperately turned on.

Time to face the obvious truth. This was not what platonic friendship or admiration felt like. She rarely had orgasms during sex, or even on her own. But now she was so needy that she could barely recognize herself—and if she kept touching herself and thinking about Isabel touching her, she would come from it, andit would be good to the point of being unendurable. Then all the questions would flood back in.

She lay unmoving in bed, taking more deep breaths, willing herself to cool down. Somehow, after an unbearably long time, it worked.

The embarrassment set in. Maybe she did like women. She could take some time to consider it. Maybe put it off for another few months or a year while she got the rest of her life sorted out. There was no reason to lose control like this, tempting herself with desperate measures while her roommate was sleeping in the other room.

She could use a shower. She was sticky. And she needed to metaphorically wash everything off.

She slipped out of bed. It was chilly, and her nipples tightened and rubbed against her camisole, making her quiver with arousal again. It was too much. She tried to ignore her body screaming at her and opened the door.

And walked straight into something big, soft, and warm. She yelped as Isabel inhaled sharply.

They both stepped back. Isabel’s… Isabel’s breasts had been pressed against hers, and Mira’s were still aflame from the contact. She almost wept from frustration. There was nowhere safe to look. Even when she dropped her gaze, there were Isabel’s solid thighs, her well-built calves…

Mira’s eyes wandered wildly. Isabel’s breasts were incredible under that thin cotton T-shirt, so lush and heavy—and Mira knew, because she hadfeltthem. And Isabel’s nipples were right there, in light and shadow, and the fabric draped over them somehow made it worse?—

In sheer panic, Mira jerked her head up. Isabel looked terrified. She ran a hand through her hair. It made her T-shirt ride up, the thin material shifting over her breasts. Her eyes flicked downward for a moment.

Oh. This was real. Mira had been thinking about it all week, lying awake in bed, her brain constantly buzzing. But she hadn’t seen it before. Yes, Isabel really did look at her likethat. Her body knew it now, too—her clit throbbed from Isabel’s gaze, and her face and breasts and thighs tingled with heat. She was beyond reason. She was going up in flames.

Isabel closed her eyes, inhaled and exhaled through her nose, and opened her eyes again. She stared at something right above Mira’s head.

Mira found the wherewithal to speak first. “I, uh… I…” Maybe she hadn’t. “I needed to shower. Are you— You’re not usually up. At this time.”

Isabel ran a hand through her midnight-dark hair again, exposing her ear and the line of her neck in the dim light. Mira couldn’t believe it. She, of all people, was doing this to Isabel.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Isabel said.

“Me neither,” Mira blurted out. She couldn’t look any lower. Not at Isabel’s parted lips. Definitely not anywhere lower than that.

Isabel might have heard her. Her gasps and moans, the creak of the bed frame. Mira winced. The embarrassment was a splash of cold water. Not cold enough to make her stop overheating.

Isabel frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine. I just— I need to shower.”

Why had she said that? Before she could embarrass herself further, she ran past Isabel to the bathroom. She’d forgotten to bring a towel, but she couldn’t go back and risk running into Isabel again.

She shut the bathroom door, turned the light on, and exhaled. Her reflection in the mirror was a mess. Tossing and turning hadn’t done her hair any favors. Her camisole was askew, one strap nearly falling down.

And there was a flushed glow to her skin, and her eyes were wild, and her nipples were straining against her camisole. Maybe Isabel hadn’t seen in the dark.

What if she had?

Mira was dizzy. She turned and sat on the hard edge of the sink, waves of need rolling through her body. The bathroom was on the other side of the apartment from where they slept. Could she?—

Isabel was surely still awake. But Mira didn’t hear anything. Still, she turned the shower on. The noise drowned out her thoughts, especially the ones about how bad of an idea this was.

She slid her hand inside her underwear this time and found her clit again. A fantasy came to her. Usually, Mira never fantasized aboutanything, and this one didn’t make any sense, and in her right mind she’d be embarrassed, but she was in no state to care.

When she’d said what she’d said earlier—that she’d repay Isabel however she could, in exchange for Isabel putting up shelves for her—Isabel’s mask had slipped for a moment.

The idea was absurd. Isabel would never, ever ask Mira for sexual favors as compensation. But Mira was in the relative privacy of her bathroom, alone with her fantasies, and she was so turned on it didn’t matter. What if she offered herself up? She’d be wearing something cute, maybe a blouse and a short skirt, and she’d unbutton her blouse and let Isabel decide if she liked what she saw…

Mira moved her fingers and rolled her hips, sparks of pleasure arcing through her. She sped up. Picturing Isabel looking at her, no longer bothering to hide the smoldering heat in her gaze.