Stu had dragged me into the storage cupboard at the college again, only this time he used his hands to bring me to orgasm. I sat up in bed, grumpily flicking on my lap and checking the time on my alarm clock. 3:47 a.m. I was going to murder my cousin. “What do you want, Alfie?” I called. “I can’t even think about how early it is right now.” There was a pause and the sound of him hopping nervously from foot to foot. “Well, technically you could say it’s late rather than early . . .” he said sheepishly as I climbed out of bed and threw open the door. I was so tired I could only manage to open one eye. “Just spit it out,” I said crankily. Alfie was practically buzzing with energy as he blurted. “I finished it. It’s done.” “Finished?” “The painting. Stu’s painting. It’s finished, and Andie, oh my God, it’s .
