“I’m sorry, baby…” I moan against his lips. “Mum’s amazing, but let’s be honest, she can bea bit muchsometimes…”
He doesn’t answer with words, he starts kissing my neck instead, grinding against me in a way that leaves absolutely no room for interpretation.
“Don’t worry about her now… It’s fine…” he breathes, already trembling with anticipation, his voice low and rough with desire.
I slide my hands down to cup those perfect, smooth, silk-soft buttocks, and I’m just about to lose all self-control when the doorslamsopen again. No knock. No warning. Justboom.
And thank God we’re still under the duvet, because if we hadn’t been, my sister would’ve been treated to a full-frontal performance not suitable for any rating system.
Still, this is beyond awkward.
“Maaaude!” I groan as she stops in the doorway, entirely unbothered, no trace of embarrassment, not even a flicker of regret. Just quiet, detached observation, as if she’s stumbledupon two butterflies in a jar and is mildly curious about their mating rituals.
“Out, please! Is itreallythat hard to get some privacy in this house?” I snap, barely managing to keep my voice from turning into a full-on growl.
“There’s no need to yell at me,” she replies coolly, as if I’m the one being unreasonable. Then she adds, deadpan, “Why are you still in bed, anyway? Isn’t it time to get up?”
I clench my jaw and start mentally counting to ten to avoid launching myself across the bed in a dramatic explosion of frustration. Luckily for her, and probably for me, Sebastian senses the storm brewing and places a gentle, grounding hand on my leg.
Ever the diplomat, he answers for us in his softest, most reasonable voice.
“You’re right, Maude. It is getting late. But since it’s our last day here, we thought we’d rest a little longer, if that’s alright. Did you need something before heading out?”
Maude blinks, seemingly satisfied.
“No, nothing urgent. I just wanted to wish you both a good day.”
I’m still fuming, body tense, jaw clenched, but then I remind myself: Maude doesn’t express emotions the way most people do. This, for her, was a gesture of genuine care. Just walking in to say good morning, even if wildly ill-timed, probably took more effort than she’d ever admit. The fact that she did it at all speaks volumes.
And just like that, my frustration softens. My voice follows.
“That was kind of you, Maude. But next time, please knock. And when you leave, could you lock the door behind you?”
“Okay,” she replies simply, without a hint of fuss.
Over the years, I’ve learned that the best way to communicate with her is clearly and directly. No dancing around the point, nosarcasm, just honesty. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.
Without another word, she turns and disappears down the hallway. A moment later, we hear the front door shut quietly behind her.
Sebastian and I exhale in unison, as if we’ve just survived some kind of chaotic family fire drill. I turn my head to meet his eyes, and we both start laughing.
“Privacy,” I mutter, pulling him back into my arms. “A rare and precious commodity in this house…”
At this point, Sebastian seems resigned to the fact that sleeping in is no longer an option. He starts to slide his legs out of bed, stretching lazily.
But before he can escape, I grab him by the waist and launch a full-on tickle attack.
He squeals with laughter, thrashing and shrieking as he tries, and fails, to wriggle free. His reactions are so unfiltered, so joyful, that I can’t stop grinning. His hair’s a wild mess, those dark curls flopping into his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his voice breathless, and there are actual tears of laughter slipping down his face.
He’s so achingly beautiful like this, it stops me in my tracks, makes my chest tighten in ways I can’t quite explain.
He notices.
And before I know it, he twists in one swift movement and flips me onto my back, straddling my hips with a triumphant smirk.
We lock eyes, and everything shifts. The teasing dies down. The air between us turns electric, charged with heat and want. Neither of us says a word.
We don’t need to.
