A whimper slipped out of Deb before she could stop it.
Hayley’s hand drifted down, slipping under the waistband of Deb’s boyshorts. Long, slow strokes. That perfectly unhurried teasing that always made Deb forget her own name.
Hayley loved her like this—lazy and warm morning sex where everything unfolded like a secret between them. No rush. Just the slow build of heat through their bodies, waking them fully in the best way possible.
Deb arched helplessly under her touch, pleasure tightening low in her belly until she couldn’t hold back. She came hard, breath catching, body shaking beautifully. She collapsed into the mattress, boneless and dazed.
Hayley pressed a final kiss to her lips, then started to slide off the bed.
Deb caught her hips. “Hey now, let me return the favor.”
“You don’t have work today. I do.” Hayley kissed her again—soft, warm, maddening. “I’m going to let you make it up to me tonight when I get home.”
Deb perked up instantly. “Should I start with ordering your favorite Mexican takeout?”
Hayley’s whole face lit. “I would love chicken and sour cream enchiladas from Dos Locos, yes please.” She wriggled free, stretching like a smug cat. “And a big batch of their fresh tortillas. With queso dip.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Deb watched her walk out of the room, admiring the exceptionally wiggly exit. That ass could solve world peace.
She lay back, hands behind her head, heart full.
Life was good—better than good. A year ago, she and Hayley had been firing snark at each other across the ICU like it was ammunition. Now they shared a home. A bed. A cat. A life.
They had been living together for three months and Deb had never been so content.
They were the kind of team she’d secretly always wanted—at work and at home. Deb’s ER unit ran more smoothly than it ever had, and Hayley’s floor had streamlined transfers like a well-oiled machine. They could communicate more with one look than some nurses could manage in a ten-minute huddle.
And after long shifts? Coming home with each other—or to each other—was like walking into a warm bath after a hailstorm.
They talked. They touched. They laughed. They cooked. Deb had begun reading more books—romances, because she claimed research—and Hayley had started taking bubble baths, which she claimed were hydration-related, but Deb knew were actually stress relief in disguise.
They had a spring trip planned to Thailand. Deb’s first passport stamp. Hayley’s fifth. Deb was so excited she checked flight prices every few days even though the trip was already booked.
Ruby had been right: enemies-to-lovers wasn’t just for books. It had worked out better than anything Deb had ever tried. They still had explosive arguments sometimes—both of them were passionate, opinionated, and a touch stubborn—butthey never went to bed angry. And the make-up sex? Unreal. Orgasmic diplomacy. World-class conflict resolution.
Deb hadn’t known life could be like this.
Hayley bustled back into the room, now fully awake and energized. She carried a big bowl and two spoons.
“One bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with real milk,” she announced dramatically as she climbed into bed. “To celebrate the special occasion of you having a day off.”
Deb stared at her. At the bowl. Then at her again.
This never got old. How had she gotten so lucky?
Hayley scooped the first bite into her mouth with such exaggerated concentration that the messy blonde bun on her head bounced with each crunch. Deb snorted.
“God, I love you,” she murmured.
Hayley paused mid-chew, then swallowed. Her whole face brightened into a sunshine smile.
“Well, I love you, too.”
Before Deb could get her spoon into the bowl, Cory trotted back into the room with the swagger of someone who believed—incorrectly—that he paid rent. He leapt onto the bed, sniffed the cereal, and chirped, angling his head toward the milk.
“Fine,” Deb sighed fondly. She dipped her fingertip into the milk and offered it.
