Page 66 of One Last Thing Before You Go

“Whoa, why are you covering yourself up?”

“Did you just miss the conversation we just had? I need to go.”

“I already forgot. I was a bit distracted.”

“Seriously, Knox. I need to get home, get dressed, and come back to work.” I scuttle around his apartment, picking up my purse, dress, and underwear, searching for my bra under the bed. “Have you seen my bra? I can’t find it.”

He stretches out onto his back on the bed, feet crossed at the ankle, arms behind his head, body like a tatted up Greek god. “Nah. Tossed it sometime between orgasms the first time around.”

I snort, checking under the bed again. “I can’t believe you—” I stop dead in my tracks, my eyes catching on the midnight blue object on his nightstand. “What is that?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“Oh.” He laughs, sitting up in bed. “Your e-reader. I may have taken it from your place when I was there.”

“What? I’ve been looking all over the place for this,” I shriek, taking it in my hands. I feel myself blush beet red in mortification. The amount of books I have on there that are just for spank bank material… “What the hell are you doing with it?”

“Research.” He shrugs with a laugh, staring up at me with adoration.

“Re—What? Oh my god.”

“You know, I was a little surprised to see just how many different romance sub-genres there are, but I gotta say, they’re all really hot. Even the alien-human ones had me going there for a second. I can totally see why you’d be into them after reading parts of one.”

My jaw drops, mortification freezing me in my place. “I cannot believe you went through my reader. That’s like—that’s like reading someone’s journal.”

“After everything I read, I think it’s more like going through someone’s browser history.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know why you’re so upset about this.” He smiles up at me, pulling me towards him on the bed.

I press my hands on his chest, pushing him away.

“C’mon, Lottie,” he says with a laugh. “You can’t actually be mad. Sure, I stole it from your place. But I think it’s hot. And no one said we couldn’t recreate a few of the scenes in there. I’m actually looking forward to it. I can’t take you to another planet or anything, and I wouldn’t be down to have sex in the snow—shrinkage and all that—but I’m not opposed to a little body paint if you really want to recreate those alien books.”

“Oh my god,” I groan, skin heating, every inch of it covered in a deep crimson blush.

“That one book about the former child actress who does the dance competition has that incredibly hot sex scene in the park that I think we could totally recreate and⁠—”

“Whoa! Spoiler alert! I haven’t read that one yet. And how did you get through so many books in such a short amount of time?” I never pegged him as a fast reader.

He shrugs. “I’ve only read five of them, and just skipped to the good parts. All scenes we’ll recreate in due time.”

I snort, unable to resist his cheeky smile, the brightness in his eyes as he talks about future plans between us. But I can’t focus on that now, instead moving my thoughts to more pressing matters. “I am a sexual person⁠—”

“I definitely know that.”

“—and I will not be shamed for reading the books I read.” “You shouldn’t be. Read what you like.” He shrugs.

“And I read other stuff besides smutty romances. I read contemporary romance, too. And thrillers and personal development books. I read business strategy, books, too. Did you not see those on there, too?”

“Duh, but I wasn’t going to read those. I was more interested in other stuff. For research purposes. And you’ll find no judgment from me. I’m not the type of guy to shit on someone’s tastes. In fact, I think I might encourage this particular one. It gives me hope.”

“What do you mean—?” But my alarm cuts me off, taking me back to more pressing matters. “We can talk about this later. Can I borrow a pair of sweats or something? I don’t want to risk running into anyone dressed in last night’s dress when I walk back home.”

“You’d rather they see you in men’s clothes?”

“It’s just sweats—no one will know. In all honesty, I’d rather they think I’m a slob than a trollop.”

He bursts out laughing. “A trollop? For sleeping over at the guy you’re seeing’s apartment? Really?”

My stomach lurches. For a split second, I start to wonder whether maybe he misunderstood last night. We agreed this was just casual, right? I begin to nervously run the conversation through my head, staring down at my feet.

“Hey.” He moves, pulling on a pair of boxers before walking over to me and taking my hands in his. “Stop freaking out. We’re good, remember? We talked it all through last night.”