*Thirty Seven*

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Thirty minutes later, I'd dried my hair a little and given up, deciding to just braid it. Carey stood behind me, brushing his hair, with his towel slung low around his waist, giving me a mouth watering view of the v lines that pointed to the bulge beneath the cotton.

Looking at him, I felt a little proud of myself that I'd been comfortable enough to enjoy the shower we'd shared and not feel self-conscious. His body was a work of art—all hard planes and sharp lines that made my fingers itch to touch him.

"Really?" He chuckled, and I flinched, my gaze jumping from his abs to my reflection and the lipgloss I'd just finished applying.

"What?" My cheeks turned pink in the mirror.

Carey smirked. "Three orgasms and you still look like you need me." He hugged me from behind and I reached back to run my fingers through his damp waves.

"I'll always need you."

His eyes met mine in the mirror and softened. All joking was gone as he kissed my cheek and whispered, "Me too, Gem." He patted my butt. "Why don't you see what Tre's up to? I have to grab some clean clothes from my bedroom and I'll be out there."

"Okay."

It was almost midnight when he left the room in front of me, and I headed to the kitchen. Tre was there, stacking the empty carryout containers and arranging burgers on plates. The fries and tater tots were on a sheet pan, ready for the oven.

"Hey, baby." He smiled. "Good timing. Everything will be ready in a few minutes."

"Can I do anything?"

"Yeah." He took one of my drinks from the fridge and twisted the cap off. After passing me the bottle he grabbed me by the waist making me giggle, and lifted me to the counter near the window. "You can sit right here."

"Okay." I rubbed a smudge of paint from his cheek. "You had a little green there."

"Oh." He took my hand before I could wipe it on the oversized tee I was using as a nightgown, and wiped the paint off with a paper towel.

"It's just a ratty old shirt." I laughed.

"I like it." His hands rested on the outside of my knees and skimmed up my bare legs, under the shirt, to my hips. He slid his fingertips under the high cut edge of my satin panties and hummed. "I like these too."

"Thank you." I grinned and leaned closer for a kiss. Our lips had barely touched when the oven beeped signaling it had preheated. Tre gave me a peck and turned away.

As he popped the pan into the oven, Carey entered the room carrying a joint and his lighter. "Smells good in here."

"Food will be ready soon." Tre closed the oven and opened the fridge. "Beer?"

"No thanks." Carey held up his weed. "I'm covered."

He slid the window up letting in the sound of crickets, then leaned on the counter between my legs. I rested my free hand on his side, feeling his warm skin through his thin shirt as I took a sip of my drink. His lighter flicked to life, and he inhaled before leaning to offer it to me.

"Nah." I wiggled my bottle at him and he nodded as he held it out to Tre.

"Thanks, but it's too late for me. I'd fall asleep before I could eat." He chuckled.

Carey snickered as he exhaled toward the dark porch. "Did you get much painting done?"

"I did. I have two ideas laid out on canvas and I'll finish them this week."

"That's cool." Carey took another puff and put it out in the ashtray he kept on the windowsill.

"Did you two have fun?" Tre asked.

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