Page 32

ALDER

I wake to early morning sunlight filtering through my blinds, and a woman's unfamiliar but perfect weight curled against my side.

For a moment, I just breathe, taking in the scent of Lena's lotion mingled with the lingering traces of sex and sleep.

Gordie is stretched out at our feet, the cone still firmly in place, but his tail thumps gently against the mattress when he notices I'm awake.

Lena's head rests on my chest, her brown hair spilling across my skin.

One arm is thrown across my stomach, her leg tangled with mine.

I love the contrast of her soft skin against my hairy hockey thighs.

She looks peaceful in sleep, all the careful composure she maintains during the day softened and melted away.

Last night replays in my mind—the heated rush from the wedding to our townhouse, the way she looked spread across her bed waiting for me, the sounds she made when I touched her. I've had my share of hookups, but nothing has ever felt like that. Like finding something I didn't know I'd been missing.

Gordie whines softly, drawing my attention. He's squirming in a way that suggests he needs to go outside soon. His energy seems better than yesterday, which is a good sign for his recovery.

Beside me, Lena stirs, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before she opens her eyes. For a brief second, confusion crosses her features, then recognition and warmth.

"Hi," she says, voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," I reply, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "How'd you sleep?"

"So well, despite a dog fighting me for space on the mattress.” She stretches, her body pressing against mine in ways that immediately reawaken my desire. "How's our patient?"

Our patient. I like the sound of that. "Seems more energetic this morning. I think he needs to go out, though."

As if understanding, Gordie gives another soft whine and walks up to the bed, his cone bumping awkwardly against the headboard.

Lena laughs, sitting up and reaching for him. "Careful, buddy. You're going to hurt yourself."

The sheet falls away as she moves, exposing her breasts to the morning light. I'm momentarily distracted by the sight, my mouth going dry. She catches my gaze and smiles, a slow, knowing curve of her lips.

"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, legs bare, 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 his bed 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 shower floor, 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?"

"You don't have to?—"

"I want to," I tell her, my hands sliding up the backs of her legs. "Let me taste you again."

Her answer is to widen her stance slightly, one hand bracing against the shower wall, the other tangling in my wet hair. I take her invitation eagerly, my tongue finding her center with renewed purpose.

The shower adds a new dimension to the experience—the constant flow of water washing away and replenishing her arousal, the steam intensifying her scent. I lose myself in the task, cataloging every gasp and moan, learning what makes her thighs tremble and her grip tighten in my hair.

When she comes, it's with a sharp cry that echoes off the tiled walls, her body shuddering against my mouth. I steady her with my hands on her hips, guiding her through the aftershocks until she gently pushes me away, oversensitive.

She pulls me to my feet, her eyes dark with satisfaction and renewed desire. "Your turn," she says, reaching between us to wrap her hand around my length.

I groan, my forehead dropping to her shoulder as she strokes me. Her touch is perfect—firm yet gentle, finding a rhythm that has me teetering on the edge embarrassingly quickly.

"Lena," I warn, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of my spine.

"It's okay," she murmurs, speeding her movements, eyes glued to my cock. "Let go for me."

Her permission is all I need. I come, muffling my groan against her neck, my release spurting over her hand and stomach before being carried away by the shower spray. We stand wrapped in each other for a moment, my breathing harsh in my ears.

When I regain my senses, I reach for the body wash, gently re-cleaning us both. There's something intensely intimate about this—more so, somehow, than the sex itself. Lena seems to feel it too, her expression soft and a little vulnerable as I run soapy hands over her skin.

"I like taking care of you," I admit, surprising myself with the confession.

Her smile is radiant. "I like it too."

After that, we finish our shower quickly, and the hot water begins to run cool. As we dry off, the easy silence returns, broken only by Gordie's occasional snuffling from the living room.

I pull on clean sweatpants while Lena hesitates by the pile of yesterday's clothes.

"You can borrow something of mine," I offer. “I like looking at you in my things.”

She nods, and I dig through my dresser for a T-shirt and shorts. While she dresses, I head to the kitchen, determined to make her a breakfast worthy of the night we shared.

By the time she joins me, I've got coffee brewing and eggs sizzling on the stove. Her hair is damp around her shoulders, my Fury t-shirt hanging loose on her frame, the shorts revealing her lush thighs. She's never looked more beautiful.

“Cheesy eggs?” she asks, wrapping her arms around me from behind as I stand at the stove.

"With butter,” I confirm, flipping one with a practiced motion. "And I have ketchup.”

"Fancy," she teases, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before moving to pour coffee for us both.