Rogan studies me for a moment, and I can’t discern if he’s checking that I’m okay or looking for weaknesses. He pulls Hoot up to his face and kisses the top of his head and inhales deeply. “Did you just get a bath, little buddy? You smell so good, you handsome little tater tot,” he coos at him. I bite back a scoff as I watch Rogan kiss him again. Hoot rubbed himself all over my dirty underwear while I was in the shower this morning. The only thing he smells like is eau de mon vagina.
