Forty Five Minutes to Vanish

Summary

We had just exhausted the last foil packet from the box of ultra-thins.

Garrett’s arm remained draped heavy across my ribs, his chest pressed to my shoulder blade, his voice still thick with the residue of sex.

"I’m thinking of getting a new pet," he murmured, his breath hot against the nape of my neck. "Help me pick one out?"

I turned toward the glow of the phone he held out, thinking of the Maine Coon lounging downstairs. "Why? What’s wrong with Jasper—"

The words withered on my tongue.