Page 66 of The Fake Date Agreement

Knock. Knock.

“Tobie?”

I bolt upright, the remote flying out of my hand. I grip my sheets to my chest and stare at the door, wishing this was a dream.

It’s Caleb.

No.

I try to pull out the egg, but I was so heavy-handed with lube and getting a grip on the slippery object isn’t easy. I’m not sure where the cord is, but looking for it in a panic isn’t helping me find it.

“Tobie?”

The door handle twists, and I leap out of bed as the egg continues to vibrate inside me.

“Uh, I’m a little busy.” I get on my hands and knees and crawl around as I peer under the bed for the remote.

“Are you okay?” is his quiet response.

“Sure.” I squeak.

“Is it your head? You sound… different. Do you need Doc?”

No. What I need is to find that remote for this egg or find another way to quickly get it out of me.

“Uh… no. I’m fine.”

He’s silent.

Good. He’s gone. I can breathe again.

“I’m calling Doc. If this is a concussion, he can come and check you over.”

Panic drives me to my feet and across the room. Snatching up my robe, I belt it so tight I wince in pain. I can’t let a doctor see me with a vibrating egg inside me. I will literally die of shame.

Clamping my thighs together, I unlock my door and open it an inch. “I’m fine.”

Caleb is standing outside my door, his cell phone in hand and his forehead furrowed.

He’s in a T-shirt that clings to the muscles on his chest. That is not helpful to my ability to stay calm and look unaffected.

His eyes narrow. “Are you okay? You’re all flushed.”

I bite my cheek as that stupid egg continually pulses inside me. It feels good, and even better while I’m face-to-face with a guy as distractingly hot as Caleb. “Fine.”

What would he say if he knew what I was doing in here? What would he do if he knew how close I was to orgasm right in front of him?

My breath hitches as I fight back my release.

His eyes sweep over my face. “Are you sure? You look?—”

I slam the door shut, press my face to the wood, and bite my lip as my orgasm hits. As I sag against it, my knees wobbly, I’m distantly aware of someone calling my name.

“I, um… I need to go to bed,” I call out weakly.

Caleb is silent for a beat. “I just wanted to say we have practice tomorrow afternoon. A bunch of people should be there so…”

I get it. It’s a good opportunity for more people to see us and for it to get back to Marc.

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