“Shit!”

I sit straight up in Teague’s bed when I open my eyes and realize it’s two in the morning. How the hell did I sleep so long?

He cracks one eye and watches me scramble for my clothes. “Stay,” he says, yawning into his pillow.

“Can’t. Colby’s probably waiting up for me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I grab my sweatshirt. The toy was nestled into a fold and clatters to the floor.

“Here.” He gets up and hands it to me. “Take it with you.”

“I can’t use this anywhere but here, though. You have the remote.”

Teague smiles and rubs some sleep from the corner of his eye. “That’s kind of the point.”

I smile, too. Using this in public probably isn’t an option—is it loud? I suddenly can’t remember. Then again, that wasn’t exactly my focus when we were using it. And using it alone seems silly, since any time I have privacy, I’m usually here at Teague’s.

Still, I take it. It slips into the front pocket of my sweatshirt like it belongs there.

“When it dies, just bring it back and I’ll charge it for you.” Teague follows me downstairs, kissing me goodbye at the door. “Don’t go,” he pouts.

“I have to.” It’s hard to be the rational one here; he looks so cute, wrapped in the bed sheet with his hair stuck up on one side. And as I step out onto his porch, ready to run for it, the chill of the air makes me wish I was back in his bed, snuggling up against him.

“Bye,” he whispers, peering at me through the crack of the door.

“Bye.” I smile again and wait for it to shut before I turn and haul ass back to my dorm. Leaves kick up in my wake; the smell of woodsmoke sneaks up on me, carried on the wind from somewhere. It’s a clear, cold night, one I’d much rather spend with him, instead of slinking into my own room like a burglar.

Colby left my reading light on for me, a little flexible lamp, clipped to a poster on my wall. It’s just enough to show me what I’m doing as I change into a T-shirt and slip into bed.

Briefly, as I’m drifting off, I think I hear a vibration. I remember the toy; I left it in the heap of clothes on the floor. Is it on? Or am I just imagining things?

I could get up and grab it. Slip it into me, just waiting for whenever Teague decides to turn it on. The thought alone makes me shudder. I could be his puppet 24/7, if I wanted—giving him endless control.

Just as I decide to actually do it, though, Colby stirs. “Hmmph,” she mutters, and I relax, thinking she’s just talking in her sleep. Then she asks, “Breton?”

I pretend I’ve been back for hours and mutter a sleepy, “Yeah?” as I push up on my elbow.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. When did you get back?”

I know I can’t say an exact time, because I have no idea when she went to bed herself, so I just rub my face and answer, “Not sure. I guess the session went later than I thought.”

She hesitates. I hear her sit up. “He really made you take a makeup class? Even after you told him you were sick?”

I laugh, praying she can’t hear how tinny and fake it sounds. “Yeah. Can you believe that? What an asshole.”

Colby’s quiet for what seems like minutes, though it might be just a few seconds; I’m holding my breath the entire time. I wish there was more light, so I could read her expression.

Then again, I’m also really happy she can’t read mine.

“Yeah,” she says, finally. “Well, I’m glad it got sorted out, at least. Kind of.”

“Me too.” I lie back down. “Sorry I kept you waiting, though.”

She must be watching me, because it takes her much longer to lie down than it should. “No problem,” she says. “’Night.”

“’Night.”

I lie awake for at least an hour, waiting for Colby’s breathing to deepen and stretch with sleep. When I hear that buzz again, it lasts just enough to let me know it’s the toy.

As desperate as I am to get out of bed and grab it, I’m equally afraid of waking Colby again. So I close my eyes and let it pass, using up every bit of my willpower, as Teague tries to control me from so far away.