Page 102 of Dream On

“I said I got—” I hold an arm out, but she’s already leaning over me, trying to tighten the fitting even more. The wrench slips in her wet hand, and instead of slowing the leak, the pipe jerks sideways with a metallic creak.

The crack widens.

A jet of water shoots out with renewed force, hitting the ceiling before raining down on us. The bathroom transforms into a mini waterfall, soaking us both instantly.

I growl over the roar of the water, shielding my face as the spray intensifies.

“Ack! I’m sorry! I thought—I just wanted to—” Stammering, she frantically tries to push the pipe back into place, but it only makes it worse. The fitting completely snaps off the wall, sending a torrent of water gushing into the room like someone opened a fucking fire hydrant.

“Stop touching it!” We’re both drenched, the water swirling around the bathroom in a chaotic flood and spilling out into the hallway.

She’s ghost white, her hair striped across her face in waterlogged tangles. She reaches for the pipe again. “What do we do?”

“Step. Away. From the pipe!”

“Not helpful!” At last, she discards the wrench. “Why are you yelling?”

“Because I can’t fucking hear anything over the monsoon in my bathroom!” Gritting my teeth, I pivot around, teetering on the wet floor. “I need to shut off the main valve.”

I make a beeline for the utility closet, yanking open the panel door and fumbling with the main valve until I manage to turn it off. When I return twominutes later, the water has stopped its relentless assault, leaving us in a wash of deafening silence, broken only by the sound of dripping water and heavy breathing.

My head slowly rolls in her direction as I stand there in my soggy sweatpants and a scowl. We glare hotly at each other before she moves to leave the bathroom in a cloud of scorn.

She doesn’t get far.

In a blink, her knee twists, and her feet start sliding everywhere as her balance goes to shit. I instinctively jerk forward to prevent her teeth from becoming a part of the marble finish, but when Stevie latches on to my shoulders for leverage, she yanks me too hard, and we’re fucked.

We both go down.

“Ow!”

“Fuck!” I collapse on top of her, our chins knocking together as I barely catch myself from crushing her to death.

Stevie winces, sprawled out underneath me, chest heaving.

I lift up on my forearms.

Our eyes meet, my bare chest plastered against her soaked-through top. No bra. No pants either. My traitorous gaze dips for a half a second, taking in her dark nipples on full display beneath the wet fabric that clings to her like a second skin. Her naked legs are spread wide, my lower half anchored between them, and I force my rage to overpower the pulse of heat that zaps through me and charges south. “You’re terrible at staying on your feet.”

“Ugh.”

“But you’re ten times worse at plumbing.”

Her cheeks flush pink, skin puckered in goose bumps. “Get off me.”

We stare heatedly at each other for another heartbeat before I come to my senses and launch myself off her, slapping wet bangs out of my eyes. “I’ll call someone to deal with this.”

“Great.”

“Please leave the wrench alone.” Shaking my head, I carefully stalk out of the bathroom, water splashing underneath my feet.

Stevie mutters an insult under her breath when I’m barely out of earshot.

“I can hear you, you know,” I call over my shoulder.

A whoosh of pale skin and wet hair races past me as she hectically wraps a towel around her shivering body. “Then stop listening.”

“I have ears. Do you want me to apologize for having ears?”