“I don’t want you alone.” I set a bottle of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand. “See? We got the good stuff.” With curious eyes, she sniffs the air. “Your place is a garage.” “I live above it. Makes the working day easier.” Kneeling, I slip off her heels and do my best to ignore her silky skin, her pink-painted toes. I eye her sequined dress doubtfully. “You want to sleep in something that’s not scratchy as fuck?” I ask, hating myself.
