I’ve never slept better.
The blanket is pooled around her waist, leaving her heavy breasts exposed and dusky pink nipples peaked from the cool air. There’s a small hickey right above her right nipple that has the possessive side of me preening. I couldn’t help marking her last night. I wanted her to have a reminder of me whenever she changes her clothes and when she showers. I plan to give her one every time we fuck before the end of the summer.
Slowly, so I don’t wake her, I roll off her bed, my feet pressing to the cool floor. I find some socks in her dresser and grab the fluffy robe from the back of her bathroom door. I could have planned this better—I didn’t think about having to go back to the main house to grab a change of clothes, but sleeping next to Juniper is worth it.
I should leave right now before everyone else wakes up, so I’m not caught and don’t raise any suspicion, but curiosity aboutJuniper makes me stay. I’ve only been to the living room, bedroom, and bathroom, and even though I know I shouldn’t snoop, I can’t help myself. I need to know more about her.
As quietly as I can, I slide open her bedroom doors and close them again. The house is quiet and cozy. Juniper has clearly spent a lot of time making this place a home. Little knick-knacks line the shelves in the living room, photos are hung meticulously on the walls, and a well-loved throw blanket is folded over the couch.
The kitchen isn’t huge, but there’s a small butcher block island that has two barstools, a decent-sized fridge, and all the essentials. I find a cup in her cupboard and fill it with water, guzzling it down. Last night’s activities have me parched. Without giving myself time to second-guess it, I fill another one for Juniper. She’ll be even thirstier, I’m sure. I had her sweating with the amount of orgasms I got out of her.
I take the cups out of the kitchen, intending to go back to her room, but the doors on the opposite side of the living room catch my eye. Is it another room? I shouldn’t look. That would be invading her privacy.
But something about it calls to me. I set the cups on the coffee table and pad over to the doors and gently slide them open.
The sight takes my breath away.
The walls are covered with papers that have sketches and paintings depicting different aspects of the ranch in various colors. Some are made with dark blues and grays, like a storm, and some are filled with pastel shades that remind me of summer.
A bigger canvas catches my eye, and my jaw drops when I realize what it is. It’s only a sketch, but I can clearly make out it’s a woman, her hair cascading down her back while her head is between a set of thick thighs. The other woman’s hand is threaded through the hair of the main woman, gripping the strands tightly. No faces, no indication of emotion, but I can practically feel the lustcoming off the page.
Is this… us? Would Juniper draw something that depicts our one night together?
A quiet voice interrupts my inspection. “It’s not finished yet.”
I turn around and find Juniper wrapped in the quilt from the bed worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.
“I haven’t had as much time to paint lately, so don’t judge it based on the sketch.”
“I knew you were a great artist, but… Juniper, this is magical. Even the sketch is stunning.”
“Thank you. I like to go where inspiration takes me and…” She shrugs. “I’ve been feeling inspired lately.”
That confirms my previous question. This painting is us. Or at least a representation of how she feels about our situation. Lust tugs at my lower belly as warmth spreads through my chest. I don’t know what to do with this information, I don’t know what to say, so instead, I do what I always do when my feelings threaten to overwhelm me: I kiss Juniper.
This time it isn’t meant to lead to anything. It’s soft and slow, a good morning kiss.
Which doesn’t help the feelings. If anything, it makes them worse. Lust is easy. Lust can be solved by a good orgasm or two. The flowery way Juniper makes me feel is much more complicated.
I don’t have time for complicated.
When we pull apart, Juniper looks up at me with a soft, sleepy expression that feels like a punch in the gut. I need to get out of here before I do something silly, like beg her to go on a real date or ask her if she wants me to make her breakfast. Maybe sleepovers should be on our list of things we can’t do. There’s no way I’m staying detached if I wake up to her looking so sleep-rumpled and pretty.
I clear my throat and step around her to grab the cups of water from the coffee table. “Drink this so you’re not dehydrated. I should get back to the main house so I can change. Who knows when Oakley will be back.”
I can tell she tries not to let her face fall, righting it into an understanding smile that isn’t quite believable. “Sure. I’ll see you for the barbecue later?”
“Yep. I’ll see you then.”
I hurry and slip on my clothes from last night, then I walk out the front door without another word.
I feel like an ass for leaving her so quickly, but it’s better for both of us to remember this isn’t anything serious.
As I step out of the bathroom to cross the hall to my room, Oakley appears at the top of the stairs. Her hair is disheveled, and her makeup smeared. She looks like she got no sleep whatsoever, and there’s a slight furrow to her brow.
She jumps when she sees me. “You scared the daylights outta me.” Her eyes narrow on my wet hair and the wad of clothes in my arms. “Why are you showerin’ so early? You usually shower at night.”
“I wanted a morning shower instead.”
