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I’m about to suggest he buy his own bottle of shower gel, but there’s no point. Stepping back, I leave him soaping up his balls and wander to the vanity. I dig around, looking for a hairband, but the only ones I find are too small and not my brand.

Damn it.

“I’m finished,” Wick calls. “Want me to leave it on?”

Rolling my eyes, I call back, “No, I’m just looking for a hairband.”

“I saw some the other day,” he says, shutting off the water. There’s some intermittent dripping, and then, “Top drawer of her bedside table.”

Shit, my dick gets hard thinking about how Verity likes to let my hair down when I’m fucking her. Probably got lost in the sheets. Of course, the second I lay eyes on the bed again, I’m reminded of her barbed words from Monday morning.

“...every time you fuck me in the dark, all I can see is the way you held me down and hurt me.”

I stare at it for a long second, that place in the middle of the bed where I’d usually drag her, taking my fill. The sex is always hurried and hungry, and despite fucking myself into exhaustion during my week, the need is already building again. It’s the only time I let myself separate her from what she is. When I’m inside of her, crashing into her body, she’s no longer the vessel, a patient, or my duty.

She’s just the woman who turns me into the worst parts of myself.

I’ve just opened the drawer when Wick walks in, dried off and in a pair of boxers.

“Found it,” I say, snagging the silk tie. Wicker approaches the bed and pulls back the covers. “What are you doing?”

His hair is damp, tongue prodding the corner of his lips. “I special ordered these sheets that first week I slept in here. They finally came in.” He sprawls out languidly, running his hand over the pale blue sheets. “Holy shit, feel that. It’s like petting a baby lamb.”

After tying back my hair, I roll my eyes but touch the sheets. “That’s nice.” Better than the silk.Better for fucking, my brain unhelpfully provides.

“Right?” He stretches out, resting his head on his hands. The lure of Egyptian cotton is too much to bear, and I pull back the rest of the blankets and get in. He slides me a slick grin. “Nice, huh?”

“Pretty fucking nice.” Definitely better for fucking.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is this?”

We both look over at the doorway, Pace glaring at us like we’ve lost our minds.

“Just fuck me already!”Effie snaps.

I don’t think I’m the only one whose balls tighten up when we hear Verity’s voice mimicked.

“No,” he says, crossing over to her cage. He’s dressed for bed like we are, shirtless and weary around the eyes. “I told you not to say that anymore.”

“We’re testing Wicker’s new sheets,” I say as if that justifies the situation. I lean over and pick up the book on the bedside table. It’s one of the pregnancy books I gave her, and a flicker of annoyance runs through me at the fact she left it. We made a deal.

Flipping through it, I note the pages are creased toward the end.

Huh.

Maybe she finished.

Across the room, Effie rattles her cage, letting Pace know she doesn’t want to leave. “Sunlight!”

“It’s the dead of night!” he argues.

She retorts,“Oh, god, please, no!”

He throws his hands in the air. “Fine! You can stay, but don’t freak out when you’re all alone in the middle of the night.”

“What’s in that book anyway?” Wick asks, noticing me flipping through it.

Shrugging, I reply, “Mostly just an overview of what new mothers should expect during pregnancy. It goes week to week covering body changes, do’s and don’ts, things you should prepare for, lists of supplies.”