He looked at me. I looked at him. I pressed my lips together and carefully propped the picture against the wall.
“I think your window got smaller,” he whispered.
“I think you’re not as flexible as you used to be. All those muscles.”
We both dissolved into silent laughter. My shoulders were shaking and eyes watering but I barely made a noise.
“I’m stuck,” he hissed. “Laughing is not helping this situation.”
That only made me laugh harder. I was in danger of peeing my pants if he kept it up.
“Help me!”
That did it. I dropped to the floor, legs crossed and my hands over my face. He was laughing as well. And then he hit his head. My head was going to explode with my attempts to keep my laughter in. I was going to die.
“Fuck,” his whisper-shout had tears streaming down my face.
I crawled to him, doing my best to help him. The man was at a very odd angle. One arm in. A leg. His head. But his hips and shoulders were still outside. I did the only thing I could. I grabbed the one arm and pulled. It worked. He fell on top of me with a loud thud.
“I’m going to pee,” I squeaked.
“This is the least graceful, most unsexy thing I’ve ever done in my life.” He rolled off me, flat on his back with one arm flung out. “I’m never going to recover.”
“Are you okay?” I managed to ask.
“No. My dignity is shredded.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. I got to my feet and rushed to the door to lock it just in case we’d woken someone up. I turned the lock and turned back around. He was still stretched out on the floor.
“I think I pulled a hamstring,” he said.
I walked back to him and leaned over him. “Want me to kiss it better?” I asked.
“Are you offering?”
“I dragged you through my window,” I reminded him. “I am offering to kiss everything better.”
“In that case…”
He reached up and pulled me down to him by the back of my neck. I went willingly, my knees hitting the floor on either side of his hips. His mouth found mine immediately, hungrier than before. I felt the laugh still caught in my chest dissolve into something else entirely.
His hands moved into my hair, tilting my head back so he could deepen the kiss. A moan escaped my throat, which he quickly swallowed.
“Quiet,” he murmured against my lips. The reminder sent a fresh wave of heat through me. Right. The house. Everyone sleeping just down the hall. That only made it better. Far more exciting. Dangerous. I was an adrenaline junkie and the thought of fucking this man on the floor of my bedroom made me wet.
I pressed my mouth harder against his in response. His hands slid from my hair down my back, finding the hem of my shirt and sliding underneath it. His palms were warm against my skin. I arched into the touch involuntarily.
“Damn,” I moaned.
I reached down and pulled my shirt over my head. I wasn’t wearing a bra—obviously. And I had only been wearing my panties with the shirt. He sat up slowly, one hand coming to rest flat against my stomach. Just resting there. Not moving. His eyes stayed on mine.
“Damn woman,” he said, sliding that hand up and cupping one breast.
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to my collarbone. His lips moved slowly across my skin, no urgency at all. Somehow that was worse than if he’d been rushed about it. Worse in the best way. My fingers found his hair.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” I whispered.
“Doing what?” His mouth moved to the curve of my shoulder.