Waylon moans and then he’s sinking, sinking, sinking into me. His eyes fall shut and mine aren’t far behind as I gather his body against me. We nearly trip over each other as I all but drag him toward me, lining us up perfectly. The doorknob digs into my back, and the towel can’t be more than one measly tug away from falling. But we are kissing. God, are Waylon and I kissing.
