I quickly dressed and went downstairs to search for Laurie. I found her in the living room at the desk weused to check guests in and out. "Hey, good morning. Are you good to handle things if anything comes up? I might step out for a bit."
"Absolutely. Go have fun," Laurie said. She had this way of making everything seem manageable, even when it wasn't.
"Great, thanks." I turned back toward the stairs, thumbs flying over the screen to reply to Aurelia's text.
Absolutely let's go. Excited!
Aurelia: Perfect, we'll swing by in an hour. Can't wait!
Antiquing was something I always enjoyed but rarely got to do since I'd been on the run. But I didn't have to worry about that now. It was one of those small pleasures that made life feel vibrant, like splashes of color in a sepia-toned world.
I had an hour to myself before Aurelia arrived. Just enough time to savor a cup of coffee and enjoy the silence of the house, my house, before embarking on today's unexpected journey.
I entered the kitchen and found Ashton at the stove, cooking breakfast with Nyx rolling around on the floor batting at what looked like the ring from a gallon of milk. He glanced up, his eyes crinkling at the edges with a smile that seemed reserved just for me.
"Morning." He flipped an omelet with practiced ease. "Thought I'd make use of the kitchen today."
"Smells amazing." I leaned against the doorframe for a moment longer than necessary. A girl could get used to a man who loved to cook. The warmth from the stove and Ashton's presence filled the space between the old wooden cabinets and checkered tiles.
He turned from the stove and leaned in, pressing a light kiss to my forehead. Then another, brushing my temple, and a third, lingering softly on the corner of my mouth.
"Thanks," he said. "There's plenty if you're hungry."
"Maybe in a bit," I said. I moved past the breakfast nook to the laundry room, the hum of the refrigerator fading behind me. Piles of linens awaited, casualties of the weekend's guests. I started sorting them into whites and colors, the rhythmic thud of towels hitting the washer drum grounding me in the moment.
Ashton appeared in the doorway, his shadow stretching across the tiled floor. He shut the door behind him, the soft click echoing slightly. His eyes held that same devious glint I'd seen before—a playful challenge.
"Need help?" he asked, but the tone of his voice hinted at intentions far removed from laundry duties.
"Uh, sure," I said, caught offguard. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air charged with an electric current that hadn't been there seconds ago.
Without warning, Ashton pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a taut torso that spoke of physical labor rather than gym aesthetics. My mouth went dry as I took in the expanse of skin, the faint lines that led down to the waistband of his jeans.
"Wh-what are you doing?" My hands paused mid-air, a damp towel gripped tightly between them.
"Making Monday interesting," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
Before I could form another word, his hands found mine and guided them upwards. With one swift motion, he had my arms above my head, my shirt slipping off with an ease that left me breathless and bare from the waist up. Then he removed my pants and panties.
"Interesting" was certainly one word for it.
He gripped my hips as he lifted me, the strength in his arms undeniable. There was a moment of weightlessness before I landed on the cold metal of the dryer. Ashton's height was just right, his body aligning with mine in a way that felt like puzzle pieces clicking into place.
I barely had time to catch my breath before he slid on a condom and slid inside me. It was fast and fervent, anurgency in our movements in tune with the hum of the washing machine next to us. Each thrust pushed me against the vibrating appliance, amplifying sensations that curled my toes and made my head spin.
The absence of foreplay only heightened the shock of pleasure that rocketed through me. A gasp escaped my lips, a sound of wonder, because this was such a contrast to the tepid experiences with my ex. With Ashton, this was different. My body responded to him with a fervor I hadn't known I possessed. Our climaxes came quickly, mine washing over me in intense waves that left me clinging to him for anchor.
Ashton's lips found mine in a searing kiss that somehow said everything without uttering a single syllable. Then, with a swiftness that matched our encounter, he stepped back, discarding the condom then deftly pulled on his clothes that had been shed moments before.
He glanced at me one last time, a silent communication passing between us, before he turned the handle and slipped out of the laundry room. The click of the door as it closed was like a full stop to the sentence of our brief, but fiery interlude. I was left perched on the dryer, heart pounding, body still humming from the rapid ascent and descent of pleasure.
Holy freaking shit that was hot.
I landed on my feet with a soft thump, the echo of ecstasy still reverberating through me. My hands moved mechanically pulling my clothes over skin that tingled with the memory of Ashton's touch. The laundry was waiting, a bit of normalcy, so I busied myself with the task, finished sorting laundry for the next wash with a rhythm that matched my still-racing heart. In the mundane act of sorting colors from whites, I found my grounding.
"So, good morning again," I said as I stepped out into the kitchen, where Ashton stood plating the omelet. His casual demeanor hid the intensity of what had just happened between us.
He looked up and smiled, a silent acknowledgment of our shared secret. "Good morning," he said. "I'll be heading out soon to talk to my partner about the clinic. Getting back into the swing of things. I'll take Nyx with me, get her bloodwork done and have her weighed, the whole shebang."
