We're quiet as we lay there, our thudding hearts slowing. I press a kiss to her temple and roll off her, walking to the attached bathroom and stepping inside. I discard the condom and wash my hands, then walk back out.
Autumn has climbed under the covers, sheet pulled up to her chin, but when she sees me, she pulls it away and climbs off the bed. She passes me, beautiful body and a smile on her face, and goes into the bathroom.
I'm not sure what to do now, but that smile on her face was encouraging. In an effort not to appear overeager for round two, I pull on some shorts and lay on the bed, on top of the covers.
Autumn comes out of the bathroom as naked as she walked in.
She hops on the bed and climbs under the covers. "I sleep naked," she tells me. "When I'm not living with my mom, anyway."
"Thank God," I say to the ceiling, shucking my shorts and joining her.
I pull her into me, her ass pressed to my length. It stirs, and though it seems too soon, it's somehow ready to go.
Autumn shimmies against me, laughing.
"You better be careful," I growl lightly in her ear, taking a nibble of her earlobe. "Spooning leads to forking."
She bucks again, pressing into me. "Care to make that statement a reality?"
Challenge accepted.
I roll her over so quickly she blinks in surprise. It's a look that's quickly replaced by lust.
As fast as I can, I pull on a condom and sink into her. She hoists one leg over my shoulder.
Okay, this time we're fucking.
I did it.
I was the creeper who watched Autumn sleep. I couldn't help it. Those full, pretty lips, parted in slumber. Steady, rhythmic breaths, lifting her breasts up and down. The sheet was bunched at her waist, and as much as I thought maybe I should pull it up for her, I didn't. She looked like a painting.
I left her sleeping and went to make coffee. I'm not sure what she'll eat for breakfast, but given the groceries she has been buying for her mom, I'm thinking a veggie scramble on whole grain toast. Hold the cinnamon rolls.
I'm buttering the toast when Autumn comes into the kitchen wearing last night’s clothes. Disappointment trickles through me. I'd hoped she'd pull on one of my shirts, and then maybe I'd take it off her after breakfast. That romper thing she's wearing is more difficult to navigate—although I did discover the quick access to her breasts.
Maybe the romper isn't so terrible.
"Good morning," I say, cautious, afraid that the sun has shone light on more than just the morning. Please don't let her tell me last night was a bad idea.
"Coffee," she mumbles, looking around, bleary-eyed. Once she spots the carafe, she grins in relief and says, "Good morning."
I grab a cup and pour, handing it to her. "When did you start drinking coffee?"
"College," she answers, lifting the cup to her lips, inhaling quickly before taking a drink. "You?"
"Same."
She peers around me to the stove. "What're you making?"
"Veggie scramble. I thought given the kale situation at your place you'd want something healthy."
She chuckles softly. "Kale situation … getting her to eat it hasn't been so bad." Autumn pulls a chair from the island and sits down. "It's funny how we've changed roles, in a way. Me cooking for her, trying to guide her diet. Her being problematic. When I hand her a juice, she turns into a petulant teenager."
I load the plates with our food and slide it across the island, one to Autumn and one to the spot beside her. "I think she's actually enjoying the attention."
"Yeah." Autumn's voice grows small as she scoops a bite onto her fork.
I know why, and it reminds me of what I said her first night back in Sedona, how I told her it was about time she came home. Even ten years later I'm still putting my foot in my mouth when I'm upset. Maybe I should work on that.
"I shouldn't have listened to her when she told me not to come before," Autumn says between bites. "Why did I listen to her?"
I sense the question is rhetorical, so I keep my mouth shut. I don't have an answer to give anyhow.
We keep eating, until Autumn scrapes the tines of her fork across her plate and looks at me. "Last night…" A blaze of pink blooms on her cheeks.
My muscles clench, readying myself for the words was a mistake to come from those delicious lips.
"…was amazing," she finishes.
My entire body melts like a snowman in a hot yoga class into the chair. "Yeah?"
"Oh yeah."
I fist pump close to my chest in celebration. An incredibly dorky thing to do, yes, but I'm too relieved to care. Autumn smiles.
"Are you almost done with breakfast?" Her eyes dart back to my bedroom.
I stand quickly, the legs of my chair making protesting noises against the floor. Grabbing the arm of her chair, I yank it, causing it to rotate toward me. She laughs as I lean in, lifting her from the seat and over my shoulder in a fireman's carry.
I’m just about to take her to the bedroom but the doorbell ringing stops me. My stomach sinks.
There’s no one else who drops by this early without calling…
Naomi.
“Expecting anyone?” Autumn slides down my chest, plants her feet on the floor, and looks up at me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I’m so fucked. I can’t breathe. I don’t know what to say. The doorbell rings again and I’m standing there frozen like an idiot.
“Owen?” Naomi’s voice comes through the door and Autumn’s eyes go from sexy sultry to axe murderer in two seconds flat.
I gulp. “So … I had a casual thing with this doctor friend, but I haven’t touched her since you got home,” I ramble, trying to explain the situation.
Autumn looks so angry, I swear she’s going to turn into the Hulk. “Okay … should I go?”
My head reels back in shock. “No! Are you crazy? No. I’ll tell her what’s up.”
I hurry to the door, praying my hard-on goes away in the next eight seconds before I open the door and tell Naomi I’ve moved on.
I feel like such an asshole right now. Yanking the door wide, I see Naomi in her doctor scrubs, looking tired but smiling wide now that I’ve answered.
“Hey, I have an hour to burn if you’re up for it.” Her voice drops three octaves and her fingers reach out to stroke my chest.
Autumn clears her throat behind me and Naomi stills.
Oh shit.
Can I just die of a heart attack and not have to deal with this? As a physician, you would think I could deal with conflict and stress well, but apparently it doesn’t extend past hospital walls. I hate this stuff.
“Naomi … can we talk?” I step outside and she backs up, her face falling when she sees Autumn behind me.
I leave the door open a few inches as Naomi steps out onto the front porch. She hugs her chest and tries to look cool, but I can see the hurt all over her face.
“I should have called first.”
I run my hands through my hair and try to think of what will hurt the least. Maybe just the truth.
“That woman in there … is my high school sweetheart. She came back home and … I didn’t expect it to happen.”