Lily Thompson
The doorbell rang, and my heart actually fluttered.
Finally.
I skipped to the door barefoot, tugging my shorts a little lower on my thighs, though there wasn’t much to cover. I hadn't expected anyone to be around when my package arrived. Thank God Ryan and Isabella had gone downstairs to do laundry—or whatever excuse they’d come up with this time. All I knew was the apartment was blessedly quiet, and I had the house to myself when my “relaxation aid” finally showed up.
I ran my fingers through my mess of bedhead curls, then tugged my crop top down over my chest. Not that it helped. My n*****s were visibly perky and my top wasn’t doing a good job of hiding the fact that I had no bra on. Whatever. It was just a delivery guy. They’ve seen worse.
I unlocked the door with a l
