CHAPTER 3
MIA
The fire’s down to glowing embers, throwing soft orange light across the living room. Cal’s sprawled on the couch in nothing but sweatpants, laptop balanced on the coffee table, scrolling through Netflix like this is a normal night and we’re not three days deep into the s*x olympics.
“Pick something dirty,” I say, crawling over the back of the couch and flopping across his lap. “Or something with explosions. I’m not picky.”
Cal chuckles, hand automatically sliding up my bare thigh (I’m only wearing one of Jonah’s oversized shirts and literally nothing else). “You just want me hard for the whole movie.”
“Guilty,” I grin, nipping his jaw. “Where’s Jonah?”
“Still working.” Cal jerks his chin toward the bedroom. “Poor bastard’s got a client deadline in eight days and zero W
