Billie
The second I stepped into Lexus's laundry room, I knew I was doing something reckless.
But he started it.
He had no right to say things like that to me, to get inside my head, to make my body react like this.
I swallowed hard, pressing my thighs together. Nope, not helping.
There was no way I could walk out of here like this—not without feeling my own arousal sticking to me the entire ride home. Gross.
So, without overthinking it, I slid my panties down my legs and stepped out of them, my breath uneven as I held the damp lace between my fingers.
I should have stuffed them into my bag. Should have taken them with me.
Instead, I glanced at the laundry basket.
Lexus's expensive button-ups, neatly folded towels, and dark socks sat inside, completely oblivious to what I was about to do.
