Unlike me, Gwen had a very apparent online presence. She didn’t seem to be the kind of girl to share vague-posts about her day, but she shared funny memes and interesting articles.
A soft smile graced my lips as I paused on a recent selfie of Gwen.
Her long dark hair hung over her left shoulder in a thick fishtail braid, and her silvery eyes sparkled with mirth. The smile on her face held just a hint of sultry attitude, and she was wearing the same Batman shirt she wore after the first time we hooked up. Her hand was against her chin, her fingers curled to display her manicured nails—nails that I still had scratch marks on my back from.
It was out of character for me to like other people’s posts on Facebook, but I did it anyway. Gwen’s smile had me tapping the reaction button before I could fully comprehend what I was doing, and by then it was too late.
A few moments later, my phone buzzed in my hands with an incoming text.
Gwen: Creeping my Facebook profile, are you?
Me:I was hoping you’d have a bikini profile pic for my perusal.
Gwen: LOL. Sorry to disappoint.
Me:I don’t think you could ever disappoint. ;)
I hit send before I could overthink what I was doing. Before I could acknowledge just hownotcasual it was to be texting her like that.
Gwen: Butter me up some more, and I just might send you that bikini selfie. Sans bikini.
Me:….
Gwen responded with a photograph, and I fumbled, nearly dropping my phone as I waited for it to open.
The snapshot was of her body from the collarbone down, her pert breasts pushed up in a silky pink bra, her milky skin on display for me. I did a double take when I realized that her left hand was slipping underneath her matching panties.
Any reservations I’d had about our flirtatious text banter was replaced with white-hot desire.
Me:No fair.
Gwen:Enjoy the rest of your weekend. ;)
* * *
I awoketo the smell of sausage and eggs and my daughter’s laughter trickling up the stairwell from the kitchen. Disoriented, I rolled over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. It was nearly eight o’clock.
I dressed quickly before taking the stairs two at a time.
One of the dining room chairs was pushed up to the counter, with Sawyer standing on it, working alongside my mother. She carefully spread butter on the toast, her brows wrinkled with concentration at each gentle pass of the knife.
“Morning,” Mom said cheerfully, looking up at me as I sauntered into the kitchen. She glanced down, turning the sausages over so they’d cook evenly through.
“Hi, Daddy! We’re making you breakfast!” Sawyer said, her green eyes sparkling with pride.
“Smells delicious,” I told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, my heart tight with the knowledge that I’d be dropping her off later tonight. Our weekends always flew by, especially this weekend, with Mom in town. “What do you ladies think about taking Tig for a hike after breakfast?”
“That sounds fun,” Mom said, and Sawyer nodded with enthusiasm.
I grabbed a mug and poured myself a cup of coffee before Mom chased me from the kitchen, citing that they had no space to work with me standing there.
Stepping onto the back porch with my coffee in hand, Tig followed close behind me. Before sauntering over to the hedges near the property line, he lumbered down the steps and sniffed at the freshly planted garden that we’d spent the better part of yesterday working on.
Setting my mug on the wooden railing, I pulled my pack of smokes out and placed one between my lips, lighting it up.
After a cold shower, I’d crashed and slept like crap, unable to veer my thoughts away from Gwen—or the sultry picture she’d sent me. My balls ached in the worst way every time I looked at the photo, and I’d looked at it too many times to count.
Finishing up my smoke, I put it out in the ashtray and whistled, calling Tig back while I opened the door.
