We kissed like we were drowning, hands clutching, bodies pressing together, trying to get closer despite already being skin to skin. His hands slid under my sleep shirt—one of his old college shirts I'd stolen from his laundry—and found me bare underneath.
"You wore my shirt," he growled against my mouth. "And nothing else. Were you planning this?"
"I've been planning this all night," I admitted breathlessly. "Lying there next to Harper, counting down the minutes until I could come to you."
He groaned and walked me backward until my back hit the door. His hands explored under the shirt, cupping my breasts, thumbing my n*****s until I was biting my lip to keep from moaning.
"We have to be completely silent," he reminded me, his voice low and commanding. "Not a sound. Can you do that?"
