Page 62 of Cinderella Is Faking It

When I got out of the bathroom, the flannel pajama top he’d offered me a few weeks ago waited neatly folded on the bed. I quickly slipped into it, then got to work on his bed. Clearly, Tabitha and Defne had been totally wrong. Throwing myself at Beck was not the way to go. He’d told me that he didn’t do monogamy. He’d told me his interest in me was sexual.

I used all the pillows and blankets I could find to erect the highest pillow wall anyone had ever seen. At least his king size bed still left enough room for both of us to stretch out on either side - even if we’d sleep on the bare mattress without any cushion or cover.

Beck had been friendly, not romantic, ever since I rejected him at brunch. Sexual, sure, but not romantic. I’d dared him to compliment me and then got swept up in the moment. God, I was so stupid. What was I thinking?

I couldn’t even date him. I’d start my job at Truman in a few weeks and this version of me would cease to exist.

I flopped down in bed and stared at the ceiling. I’d never been this casually intimate with anyone. What did that even make us? Friends with benefits? The term felt strange considering Beck and I hadn’t really started out as friends. Fuck buddies? Not likely since there was a definitive lack of fucking. Summer fling? Sounded too romantic.

Summer study buddies with benefits?

Sex tutorship?

A liaison?

TWENTY-FIVE

My hard-on was throbbingwhen I woke up. Fuck. It was almost painful. I’d not woken up with that much white-hot pressure in my dick since I was a pimply pubescent teen. I blinked down and quickly figured out what the hell was going on. Del was sprawled on top of me. She’d slung an arm and leg over me, her head on my chest. Her flannel shirt had ridden up, exposing her flimsy lilac panties. My dick jerked at the sight of those two little dimples right above her panty line. Jesus. She’d slotted over me with my hard-on right in her thigh crease. So much for the pillow wall.

At least I was still on my side of the bed. Even if I’d promised her sex was off the table, I could hardly control how my body reacted to her climbing me like a monkey.

She shifted, mumbling incoherently, and her hip rubbed over me. She was fucking dry humping me. And I was about to explode right here. And then it wouldn’t matter whose side of the bed we were on.

Not even getting into the mess that I’d caused last night. I’d been drawn to those full lips since the first night we met, and then I turned my head away when I finally had the chance to claim them.

Somehow, I managed to slide out from under Del, earning nothing but a few annoyed moans before she hugged my pillow instead of my chest and fell silent again. I hit the shower and shot a load down the drain within a few strokes to my dick, pressing my mouth into my shoulder to keep the noise down. A fucked-up part of me wished she would have walked in right then. At least she would have seen what she was doing to me.

When I walked out in my bathrobe, Del sat in the middle of the bed. Her hair stood off in all directions and she was rubbing her eyes. “I had the weirdest dream,” she mumbled, voice still croaky. Fuck that was cute. I almost regretted not watching her wake up. Jesus fuck. What the hell was wrong with me?

“What did you dream about?” I asked, grabbing fresh underwear from my dresser.

“I was free climbing this huge mountain.” That tracked. “But then this flock of birds surrounded me, and I had to hold on for dear life. Except then it wasn’t birds anymore, it was flying fish. And when I fell, it was only like three feet into the ocean.” She crinkled her nose and blinked at me. “Did you shower?”

“I did. I put out a fresh set of towels if you want to go next. Unless you’d rather stay dry considering you went for a swim in your dream.”

“Thanks.” She detangled herself from the blanket and crawled out of bed. Her muscles weren’t quite back to their normal energy yet, every step a little groggy and slow. “Sorry for destroying the pillow wall. I didn’t punch or kick you, did I?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Technically not a lie.

“I’m a horrible sleeper.” She began making the bed, eyes half-closed, operating on muscle memory. “So many weird dreams. And sometimes I wake up with my feet on the pillow.” She froze. Turned to me. Turned back to the bed. “Pillows.”

“Are you having a stroke?”

“Library, pillows.” She pointed at the door, then at the bed. “Bedroom, pillows.”

“Yes, I own many pillows.” I hadn’t. Not until Del had clouded my thoughts with images of her writhing in my bed when I left her alone in the apartment. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. In case she ever wanted to revisit the vibrator, she wouldn’t have to carry my whole bedding from room to room to be comfortable.

“Good. Next time, I’ll build the pillow wall even higher.” She grabbed her neatly folded stack of clothes and headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t bother,” I said, “I actually quite enjoyed getting climbed like a mountain.”

She turned in the door, cheeks instantly turning pink. “I didn’t.”

“Purple lace.” I grinned and dropped my eyes to her hips. “Maybe next time you can dream about horseback riding. I feel like the up and down would do more for me than just climbing upwards.”

“I’m going to take a shower and if you ever mention this again, my next dream will be about strangulation. I can’t be charged if I do it in my sleep, right?”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” I grinned.

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