Perfectly Adequate

Her eyes narrow. “You used Roman to get to me?”

“Uh … yes. I have no shame when it comes to you.” I brush my lips against hers.

To my surprise, she doesn’t stiffen and take time to decide if she wants to be kissed. Instead, she grabs my lab coat and pulls me to her, opening her mouth to me. I kiss every inch of that mouth like I own it too while Dorothy makes little humming noises.

“M-my phone?” She breaks the kiss and grabs her phone. “I have to go.”

I nod, trying to suppress the inclination to tell her to ignore her phone, take off her clothes, and let me find all the spots that bring her pleasure. “Okay.”

She nods, rubbing her lips that hide a tiny smile. “Okay.”

“Tomorrow, pack an overnight bag, and come to my house after work.”

Her gaze shoots up to mine. “Oh … um …”

I smirk. “For Roman. Please …” I wink.

“Are you using him to get me to come over?”

“One hundred percent. And with no regrets.” I chuckle, ducking my head to kiss her neck, to smell the coconut along her skin while my hands palm her ass.

Her breath hitches. “Oh … uh … so you’re inviting me for a sleepover?”

“Mmm hmm …” I torture myself by taking one last taste of her skin, one last squeeze of her curvy, firm ass.

“Okay.”

“Yeeesss …” I slide my hands just past her ass to the back of her legs and lift her up, pressing her back to the door, positioning the head of my erection right between her spread legs.

“I have to go.” She grabs my neck to steady herself as I maneuver her hips to … well, torture my dick some more. “If…” her voice takes on a needy, breathy intonation “…if you don’t stop right now, I’ll have to find a place to masturbate because I won’t be able to stop thinking about the orgasm you almost gave me.”

Yeah, neurotypical people don’t say that. I sure as hell would never confess to a woman that her flirting and teasing will require me to go masturbate. God knows I did it after every fake playdate when I first met Dorothy. And after she leaves this room, I will grab that cup of coffee I said I was going to get, go back to my office, lock the door, shut the blinds, and rub one off. But never would I confess that to her or any other woman.

My forehead drops to her shoulder. “Killing me, Dorothy. You’re killing me.”

“I have to go. If we wait, someone will ask where I’ve been. And I won’t be able to lie.”

Thunk.

Thankfully, she lands on her feet when I let go of her like taking a pan from the oven without oven mitts. I don’t need her telling people about me groping her in an empty room while inviting her to spend the night with me. And that’s how she would phrase it, I have no doubt about that.

“Get to work. Go, go, go!” I unlock the door and give her a gentle nudge.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Wonder Woman

Dorothy

Instead of dealing with an onslaught of questions, I text my mom after I get to work.

Me: I won’t be home tonight. Been invited to have a sleepover with Roman. Love you.

Come to find out, Eli isn’t working today. Just as well. I have enough issues focusing on my work while my mind keeps wandering to the sleepover. Roman will freak when he sees my pajamas. I have drawers of clothes that I convinced myself I needed at one point and time, but they’re far from practical. However, I keep them on the off chance that the right occasion will present itself, and I’ll have the perfect outfit.

Presenting … a sleepover with Romeo.

Perfect!

After work, I swap clothes in my car. No one at the hospital needs to see my pajamas, although part of me wants to show them off. I’m a little surprised Eli is letting Roman have me over tonight since I get off work at eight, which means I don’t arrive at his house until almost eight-thirty. But it’s a Saturday night, so I assume Roman gets to stay up a little later.

So many assumptions. Being an Aspie isn’t always hot chocolate and marshmallows with rainbow sprinkles. No. Oftentimes it’s showing up to a Star Wars themed party dressed as Mr. Spock, greeting everyone with the Vulcan salute.

“Hey!” I grin proudly when Eli opens the front door. My smile vanishes. “Is that the best you’ve got?” My gaze makes a critical inspection of his faded jeans and plain white tee. Poor Romeo needs a fun adult in his life, one who knows sleepovers involve at least a onesie with critter feet.

“I … I’m …” Eli’s eyes widen, jaw unhinging as I step inside and slide off my jacket. His gaze sweeps along my red, knee-high socks that look like boots, my tiny blue shorts with yellow stars, my fitted, red tank top with the Wonder Woman logo, and my fancy tiara.