The basement laundry room had become their most dangerous sanctuary.
It was well past 2 a.m. when Danica slipped downstairs. The house above had finally fallen quiet after hours of video games and recovery. Only the low rumble of the old washing machine broke the silence as she stepped inside.
Caleb was already waiting.
He stood leaning against the dryer, arms crossed over his bare chest, wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants. The moment the door closed behind her, he moved.
No words. No hesitation.
He crossed the small space in two strides, turned her firmly, and pressed her front against the warm, vibrating dryer. His chest settled against her back, hips aligning with hers. The machine’s steady thrum traveled through her body as he rolled his hips forward, grinding his hardn
