I blindly stumble into the bedroom behind her.  She’s naked.  She came to my apartment, naked.

Can you blame the grin on my face?

Can you blame me for taking my clothes off in the hallway?

I’m going to let her do whatever she wants, anywhere she wants, for as long as she wants.  I don’t care.

Are you serious?

Glen is not calling me right now.

I throw the cell phone to the couch, toss my cami on top of it, reach around my back to unhook my bra, adding it to the pile.  My hairtie breaks off in my hands as I hurriedly shake out my hair.

I’m untying my boy shorts, frustrated by the developing knot.  I’m pulling them down my hips, racing around the corner into my bedroom, where she’s already draped across my sheets, her head on my pillow, her eyes eager, her lips curled up into a smile.

“C’mere, Ash,” she whispers, sitting up so her hair falls over her shoulder.  “Let me do that.”

I stumble over to her, my hands still struggling to get my pants off, but slowing down as I realize she wants to do it for me.  I kneel on the bed, straddling one of her legs.  She slides further down, closer to my body, and reaches up to still my hands.  She doesn’t even look at the knot, and I can’t take my eyes from hers.  In seconds, I feel her fingertips sliding my shorts down as the heat slides up my body.

I shift my weight so the pants fall onto the floor.  Her hands run up my sides, her body lies back, and pulls mine to cover her own.  I can finally dip my head down to kiss her for the first time since she dropped that trench coat.

What was it?  Thirty seconds ago?  Sixty?  Feels like hours, and my lips and my tongue dance with hers like it’s been years.

Her hands can’t decide whether to grip my head or my shoulders or my waist, but her body knows it wants mine pressed up against hers.  I can already feel the sweat pooling on our bodies and I know I’m going to be dripping in more ways than one soon.