She smiled into the chili as she gave it another stir.
There was a humming.
No. A vibration.
Soft. Quiet. But there.
She could feel it in her skin, low and comforting.
Sawyer swam up from the depths of sleep, where she’d been tucked up safe and warm and comfortable. Until the vibration. Slowly taking stock of her limbs, she found it odd she couldn’t move her right leg. Or her right arm, now that she tried.
She opened her eyes to see large green ones staring down at her from the back of the couch. The couch that wasn’t hers. The cat was purring softly.
It took her a moment, but her memory caught up. Jenna’s place. She was at Jenna’s place. On Jenna’s couch with Jenna’s cat staring down at her from the back of it—was he judging her?—and under her grandmother’s blanket as well as—
Oh my God.
Brown hair with highlights of rusty red lay just beneath her chin, smelling like the comfort and sweetness of autumn—cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg, and what kind of shampoo smelled like that? She inhaled anyway, deeply, taking it in, letting it fill her lungs with a feeling of warmth, as she tried not to panic over the realization that Jenna was draped over her fully, tucked up against her, sleeping soundly, her long breaths deep and even. Racking her brain to remember the hours before, she recalled them watching a scary movie—a surprising choice for somebody who immerses herself in romance, she’d pointed out—and they’d sat close in order to grab onto each other during the jump scares, which they did, then ended up laughing each time. Sawyer hadn’t been quite ready to leave yet, despite her own yawning, and Jenna had said she was enjoying herself, too. Then she’d suggested another movie, a drama this time. Jenna had clicked the fireplace on, which was still burning, turned off the lights, and inched a bit closer so they could share Sawyer’s blanket.
That was all Sawyer remembered. She must’ve fallen asleep right after that. Jenna must have, as well, though the TV was off.
Interesting fact, that.
Because instead of turning off the TV and waking Sawyer up to send her home, Jenna must have turned off the TV and snuggled in.
Sawyer wasn’t mad about it.
The opposite, in fact, and waking Jenna up so she could slide out from under her and go home to her cold and empty side of the house didn’t interest her in the slightest. Instead, she burrowed down into the couch a bit more and tightened the muscles of her right arm, which waswrapped around Jenna’s shoulders. Jenna shifted a bit in her sleep, and that’s when Sawyer became aware of Jenna’s arm draped across her ribs, Jenna’s hand splayed over her left breast as if it belonged there, as if Sawyer’s breast was Jenna’s property, resting warmly on the swell of it, and Sawyer felt her nipple tighten at the thought.
She swallowed hard, and Jenna shifted again, and this time, it was her knee that caused havoc in Sawyer’s body. The knee of the leg that was thrown over Sawyer’s thigh, the knee that was nestled between Sawyer’s legs and pushed against her center any time Jenna moved.
And suddenly, Sawyer was wide awake.
Nibbling her lip, she glanced up at the cat, who was still staring at her with accusation. “It’s not my fault,” she whispered at the feline, who yawned widely, as if entirely bored with her very lame statement of defense. Sawyer made a face back.
She was uncomfortable now and hyperaware.
She was also wet.
And warm.
And turned on.
Jesus Christ…
But Jenna had stopped moving, and her breathing had evened out again. The brief idea Sawyer had entertained of maybe waking her up floated away into the dim firelight of the room. Amanda had never been a cuddler, but Sawyer loved cuddling. Snuggling in close and holding each other—yes, please. It was something she’d missed greatly over the past years, and as she lay there now, she thoughtFuck it. A deep breath in, a slow exhale, and her body relaxed again, muscles loosening, tension melting away. Absently, her lips found the top of Jenna’s head, and she gave her a small kiss before settling in and letting her eyes drift closed once again. Sleep was right there on the edge, waiting for her with open arms.
The next time she opened her eyes, it was because a slight chill hung in the air, and she was alone on the couch. She had blankets—both hers and Jenna’s from the back of the chair across the room—but she was still cold. She knew immediately it was because she’d lost Jenna’s body heat—how the hell had Jenna gotten up without waking her?—and a big part of her was immediately depressed by that.
Dishes rattled in the kitchen, and she glanced at her watch. Sixfifteen on Monday morning. She knew she had a meeting in the office at nine, so she wasn’t in a huge hurry, but she did need to get up. Instead, she lay there, thinking back on the night, about waking up to the realization that she and Jenna were wrapped up in each other and that she’d opted to keep it that way, rather than wake her up and make changes to their positions. That had been selfish of her. It had also been the warmest and safest she’d felt in a very long time.
“Good morning.” Jenna peeked out from the kitchen and across the small dining room. “How do you take your coffee?” She didn’t sound uncomfortable, but she stayed far enough away that Sawyer couldn’t really see her face.
She reached for her glasses on the coffee table and slid them on, and Jenna came into focus. “Morning,” she said, and had to clear her throat. “Just a little sugar if you have it.”
“You got it.” Jenna disappeared back into the kitchen.
Okay. What do we do about last night?
