The second week was almost over.
Which meant one more week before Celestia had to pack up and leave for home.
Not that I was counting, but… okay, yeah, I was counting.
We'd had sex six times in the past five days. Six. And she swore that was her version of "taking it easy so you don't run away, Kai."
If that was taking it easy, then what the hell would "serious" Celestia be like? Because by now, my body was half convinced I'd signed up for some kind of military-grade endurance program disguised as a relationship.
Tonight was supposed to be normal. She had insisted on a "rest night." No chaos, no tricks, no dragging me into another marathon. Just Netflix, junk food, and her curled up in my hoodie.
But with Celestia, "normal" didn't last long.
---
> "Move over, husband."
I groaned. "Stop calling me that."
