Page 27 of Fall Apart

I rush over to the utility closet and then bathroom. I see the bare copper pipes in the walls and at least a few of them are cracked. They must have frozen last night, ruptured, and then started leaking everywhere when it warmed up this morning.

But we have heaters. It shouldn’t have gotten this cold in here last night.

I remember two things in this moment.

That blast of cold air when I walked in, meaning the heat hadn’t been running for a while.

And last night… Marco’s words.

I was talking to Mr. Jensen and then I got distracted watching Lizzy. Ineverlet myself get distracted like that. But last night, I did and I forgot to swap over the gas tanks.

CHAPTER 14

LIZZY

FML

The last weekhas been nice. The grumpy asshat upstairs has learned to walk like he isn’t trying to put his feet through the floor every day. I assume he’s still wearing those ridiculous slippers until a quarter ’til eight every morning. I will begrudgingly admit that I do appreciate that, so far, when Clay says he’s going to do something, he does it. I know something as little as trusting someone to not be loud every morning until a reasonable hour shouldn’t matter so much, but it does to me.

It’s been nice waking up on my own every morning and then getting my coffee treat and pastry from him is an added bonus. So far there haven’t been any more book deliveries, but I have plenty to read. And on this particular morning, I roll over in the plush sheets of the king size bed, enjoying the rays of sunshine peaking in through the gaps in the blackout blinds.

However, I’m stillrestless. Not because I didn’t sleep. No. And not because I was out late last night. I met Grace for a drink at Roxy’s and was home at a responsible hour.

No. I’m restless because I’ve been dreaming aboutmother fucking Clay Chapmanevery night. Why is he in my dreams? Why am I thinking about him at all? Ok. I know why. It’s the abs. It’s those dimples. That fucking smirk he gives me like he knows what’s going on in my head. Those intense green eyes that feel like a flame on my skin. All I’ve thought about for weeks is that asshole upstairs. For all I know, he’s probably wandering around up there shirtless again because that sugar addict Luke spilled coffee on him.

Before I drove out from Ohio weeks ago, I had just started a werewolf smut reading binge. So I packed my new knotted werewolf dildo. Have I been picturing Clay when I’ve been using it? Yes.

Add that to the list of things he can never know. He’s already so cocky, I don’t know how big his head would get if he learned I was pleasuring myself thinking about him. I’m probably going to need to unpack why I’m obsessed with the guy who’s driving me crazy later, but it’s doing it for me right now. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do with my extra time this morning.

I reach into my nightstand, pulling out the black silk bag with the toy in it. Did I splurge and get it with the ultra premium, sparkling purple soft silicone? Yes. I wasn’t convinced the smooth and veiny toy with the knot just above the base would be fun, but I have beenpleasantlysurprised. Thank you for the inspiration, smutty books.

After taking my toy out of the bag and setting it on the nightstand, I dip my fingers under the waistband of my shorts, reaching for my swollen clit. I’m already so wet. Clay can definitely never know he gets to me like this. The bar was one thing. He knows about that. But he would never let me live it down if he knew I was this into him. Well, his body anyways. His cocky, prickly attitude could use an adjustment.

I stretch across the bed towards the other nightstand to grab the remote for the blinds. I’d like a little more light in here to see what I’m doing. My arm is draped across the pillow when I can feel that it’s wet.

I mean I drool in my sleep sometimes, but I didn’t sleep on that pillow. I press the remote to open the blinds, looking around the room.

And that’s when I see it. The giant spot on the ceiling. You can’t be serious. Looking up at the ceiling, there’s a giant wet spot over one side of the bed stretching towards the hallway and en suite bathroom. The drywall is sagging and there’s a trail of little wet spots in the carpet the whole way.

I rush out of bed, reaching for my phone. I need to call maintenance? I don’t know. Maybe Dad? It’s his fucking condo. The contractors upstairs? Fuck. That’s Clay.

No. No. No. This cannot be happening.

I hear a large tearing sound and a crash. I look behind me.

Oh. My. God.

The fucking ceiling collapsed in half the bedroom. There’s a trail of drywall running from one side of the bed to the bathroom and the hallway.

Fuck. My. Life.

I just got settled in and now I have to deal with this mess? I still need to get to work today and it looks like at least one of the bathrooms is out of commission.

Before I can get too far with that train of thought, a whole new concern is emerging. I can hear shouting upstairs, presumably the dipshit guys working for Clay responsible for this. And then I hear it. My condo door opening and shutting and stomping down my hallway.

“Lizzy, are you ok?” Clay rushes into my bedroom. He looks terrified and panicked until our eyes meet and he sees that I’m out of the bed and in one piece.

“Jesus fuck, Clay. I could have been naked.” Why is the first thought I have when Clay is in my room about me being naked? “And how did you get in here? Did you break my door down?” I snarl at him, arms outstretched and flailing pointing at the mess in every direction.

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