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“Have you not noticed how tidy I am? I’m insulted you think I would make a bed and leave wrinkles. My top drawer was open too.”
She twisted to roll over onto her side and propped her head up with one hand. “You don’t think you might have done those things yourself when we were hurrying to get ready for Caleb’s party last night? Or after the whole pool debacle?”
She had a point. I had been a little preoccupied. It had been the middle of the night when we’d finished up with the paramedics and I’d come back to my room after having a shower. I supposed it was possible that I might not have taken as much care as I normally did. “Why does it smell like perfume in there?”
“I sprayed some deodorant earlier. Your bathroom door was open.”
Well, shit. That made sense. I rubbed the back of my neck. “Sorry.”
She shrugged and went back to her phone. “No sweat.”
“You need anything before I get some sleep?” She seemed pretty healthy for a woman who we’d found at the bottom of a swimming pool not all that long ago. “Still no coughing?”
“No secondary drowning here. My lungs are good. I’m good. Just tired.”
“I’ll leave you to it then. Get some rest.” I pushed off the doorframe and went back through the bathroom. This time I shut the door.
I stripped off the all-black getup and pulled on a pair of flannel pajamas with Taylor Swift’s face all over them. They’d been a gag birthday gift from Miranda and Bart, but they were super comfy, so I wore them regularly. I got beneath the blankets and tried to sleep, but it didn’t seem to matter how long I lay there, the need to fight or fuck wouldn’t go away.
I tossed and turned, getting hotter by the second. It was like someone had lit up the fireplace in the corner of my bedroom, except the flames were inside me, heating from the inside out.
I knew there was no way of getting any sleep when I was like this. I could get up and run, but my body was exhausted. Getting off was the easier option. Caving in to the need I’d been trying to ignore, I stripped off my pj’s. Taylor didn’t need to see what was about to happen here.
I got back beneath the blankets and palmed my already hard cock. I closed my eyes while I stroked myself, but the instant I did, Rebel popped into my head.
I didn’t want to disrespect Fang by thinking about his girl while I did this. So I closed my eyes again, willing myself to think of anyone but the sweet little brunette in the bed just feet away.
The next image in my spank bank was Vaughn.
I twisted onto my side with a groan. That was so much worse.
I grabbed my phone, ready for some inspiration that were not images of either of my roommates, who were both frustratingly unavailable.
The screen was black. “Nooo,” I groaned softly. “Turn on.”
The stupid thing was completely dead. It hadn’t been charged in over twenty-four hours, so it was hardly surprising, but the timing sucked. I tossed it across the room, knowing the carpet was thick enough to soften the fall. I’d charge it when I woke up. I rolled over and lifted the corner of my mattress, fumbling beneath it for the stash of dirty magazines I kept there for such situations.
I came up empty-handed. Frowning, I groped around some more and then checked the other side, thinking maybe I was losing my mind. I always slept on the left. Which meant my stash was always on the right. They weren’t on either.
I found them at the bottom end of the bed and got back beneath the covers. But my mind was whirring a million miles a minute, no longer thinking about my dick but why the hell my room felt so wrong.
“Rebel!” I bellowed.
“What?” she yelled back.
“My porn collection? Seriously?”
I waited for her to deny it. But a minute later, the bathroom door slid open and her head poked in. Her gaze darted to the porn collection in my hand and then back up at my face.
Her guilt was written all over her features. “Okay, so fine. Maybe Bliss and I had a very quick poke around your room.”
“I knew it! You little gaslighter! You seriously had me thinking I was turning into a slob.”
She frowned at me. “Jesus, Kian. If one wrinkle in your bedsheets and a slightly ajar drawer constitutes being a slob, I think we need to get your OCD checked.”
“My OCD is just fine. What on earth made you want to go through my room?” I wasn’t exactly mad. I had nothing to hide. If she’d just asked, I would have let her look at whatever she wanted. But I was curious to know what she’d been searching for.
I kinda hoped it was porn. Damn, that was hot.