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“You pacing around picking up the same three toys say different.”

“Fuck you.”

His smile disappeared.

Something about the way he looked at me made my stomach tighten.

Then he moved closer.

I backed up.

Once.

Twice.

Until my back touched the wall.

I could’ve moved around him.

I didn’t.

“Shit, Levin. The kids are⁠—”

“Yo!” he called toward the stairs. “Y’all don’t come downstairs. Your mom dropped some glass.”

“OKAY!” somebody yelled back.

My mouth fell open.

“Levin!”

“What?”

“Xavier can walk in any fucking second.”

His mouth curved as he stepped closer. I should’ve moved. Instead, I watched his hand disappear beneath the waistband of my sweats. No teasing over the fabric. Straight under. Palm against me. Fingers sliding through how wet I already was.

“Isn’t that the beauty of it though?”

“Nigga, you are fucking crazy.”

He leaned closer, his mouth near my ear.

“Weren’t you just mad I ain’t bring up what happened at Playroom?”

He started rubbing my clit and now I couldn’t remember how to fuckin breathe. He kept his eyes on mine. Didn’t stop. Slow circles. Testing me and my motherfuckin strength.

“Now you worried about your husband?”

“I wasn’t mad.”

“You picked up the same three toys about four fucking times.”

“Because my house is dirty.”

“Your house ain’t dirty.”

“Then maybe I like picking up toys.”