"See something you like, Stag?"
"Everything," I admit, unfiltered honesty coming easily in the quiet intimacy of the morning.
Her cheeks flush prettily, and for a moment, I think we might not be getting out of bed anytime soon. Then Gordie whines again, more insistently.
"I think someone has different priorities," she says, laughing.
We both climb out of bed, finding the minimum clothes needed for decency—sweatpants for me, one of my T-shirts, and her underwear for me. The sight of Lena in my shirt, legsbare, hair tousled from sleep and sex, makes my chest tighten with something deeper than just desire.
Together, we navigate Gordie's leash with his cone and head outside into the humid morning air. The river gleams in the near distance, and a few neighbors are already out, walking dogs or jogging along the path. Kim waves at us from her patio with a knowing smile as she takes in our disheveled appearance.
"Morning, you two," she calls. "Gordie feeling better?"
"Much better," Lena replies easily, as if we do this daily as if she's been part of this routine for years instead of hours.
We stroll along the grass, letting Gordie sniff and do his business. I find myself stealing glances at Lena in the golden morning light. There's something surreal about this moment—this woman I was determined to keep at a professional distance now walking beside me in my clothes, fresh from my bed, caring for my dog.
Our hands brush as we walk, and I capture hers in mine, our fingers intertwining naturally. Her hand is strong from the work she does, and I love that she doesn’t bristle at my rough palm. We don't speak much, but the silence is comfortable. When Gordie finishes his morning duties, we head back to the townhouse, our shoulders gently bumping as we walk.
"Hungry?" I ask as we enter.
"Starving," she admits. "But Gordie probably needs his medicine first."
She's right, and the fact that she remembers, that she cares enough to prioritize him, affects me deeply.
"The pills are in my bathroom," I tell her. "I'll wrap them in cheese from the fridge."
We move around each other with surprising ease as we prepare Gordie's medicine and help him settle in. I find myself wondering how we've developed such effortless coordination after just one night together.
Once Gordie is medicated and resting comfortably on hisbed in the living room, Lena turns to me, her posture slightly awkward.
"I should probably shower," she says. "I'm still a bit... sticky."
Images from last night flash through my mind—Lena coming apart under my touch, the taste of her lingering on my tongue, the wet heat enveloping me. My body responds instantly to the memories.
"Need help with that?" I ask, the words coming out more hopeful than suggestive.
She bites her lip and then nods. "If you're offering."
I take her hand again, leading her toward my bathroom with its larger shower. "Definitely offering."
There's a brief, awkward moment as we both strip, but then Lena drops my T-shirt to the floor, standing before me in just her panties, and any hesitation evaporates. I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my sweatpants and push them down, never taking my eyes off her.
The shower warms quickly, steam filling the bathroom as we step under the spray together. Water cascades over Lena's curves, accentuating the places I explored with my hands and mouth just hours ago. I reach for the shampoo, but she stops me, taking it from my hands.
"Let me," she says, pouring a dollop into her palm.
I duck my head, allowing her to work the shampoo into my hair. Her fingers massage my scalp, and I groan at the simple pleasure of it. When she's finished, I return the favor, watching as her eyes close in contentment.
As I rinse the suds from her hair, my hands slide down her body, tracing the curves of her breasts and the softness of her stomach. She shivers despite the warm water pressing closer.
"You're so beautiful," I murmur against her wet skin, meaning it more than I've ever meant those words before.
She makes a small, disbelieving sound, and I'm determined to prove it to her. I drop to my knees on the showerfloor, ignoring the hard tile against my skin as I press kisses to her stomach, her hips, and the soft insides of her thighs. And finally, like a man starved, I sink my teeth into those legs I’ve been fantasizing about since the day I met her.
"Alder," she gasps as I move closer to where she wants me.
I look at her through the spray, with water dripping from my eyelashes. "Yes?"
