92
The soft murmur of laughter drifted through the penthouse kitchen, blending with the quiet jazz playlist Amanda had queued up on her phone. Morning sunlight spilled through the massive windows, making everything feel golden and a little too perfect.
Amanda sat cross-legged on the couch, oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, her curls still tousled from sleep.
Ericka leaned against the island in a fitted tee and joggers, sipping her coffee like she was plotting how to conquer the day—or the woman on her couch.
Ava sat on the floor, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, cradling her cup and watching them both with one brow raised.
They'd already been up for a while—trading stories, cracking jokes, talking about random childhood memories and worst dates. The empty wine bottles from last night lined the counter like silent witnesses to their late-night bonding. It was the kind of morning that felt too relaxed to be real.
But even in all the comfort and casualness... something crackled between Amanda and Ericka.
Ava noticed it first when Amanda reached for her mug on the coffee table and Ericka's eyes followed the slow stretch of Amanda's arm a little too long.
Noted.
Then again, when Amanda said something clever about a design pitch and Ericka let out a soft laugh—not just any laugh, but that low, husky one that curled at the edges—and looked at her like she was the only person in the world.
Very noted.
And when Amanda caught that look? She blushed.
Hard.
Ava took a sip of her coffee and let her gaze drift between the two of them. "Okay," she said slowly, smirking, "are y'all about to eat breakfast, or each other?"
Amanda choked on her drink.
Ericka didn't even blink. "Depends on who's on the menu," she said smoothly, locking eyes with Amanda again.
Amanda gave her a look, playful but burning under the surface. "You're impossible."
"You love it," Ericka replied, lips curving just slightly.
The silence after that was thick. Electric. Ava sat up straighter, watching them like a tennis match of sexual tension.
"I swear," Ava muttered, still smirking. "You two look at each other like you're seconds away from tearing clothes off. Don't mind me. I'm just over here being the emotional support third wheel."
Amanda laughed, her cheeks flushed. "We're not that obvious."
"Oh babe," Ava said, raising her mug. "You're worse than obvious."
Ericka tilted her head, sipping her coffee, eyes still on Amanda. "She might have a point."
And then, she turned to Ava, voice silky and low. "You know, Ava... you can join too."
Ava blinked. "Wait, what?"
"There are so many things I could do to you," Ericka continued, voice smooth as velvet, eyes narrowing just slightly. "If you're patient... and if you're really done playing games."
Amanda's lips parted slightly at the boldness, and Ava's eyes widened—whether from surprise or intrigue, no one could tell.
For a moment, everything went still.
Amanda leaned forward, brushing a curl behind her ear, voice steady. "If we did want someone else," she said slowly, locking eyes with Ava, "it could definitely be you—if you'd stop getting jealous and throwing tantrums. Because we actually like you."
Ava looked between them, pulse racing. "You're serious?"
Ericka smirked, setting her mug down. "As serious as your staring problem this morning."
Amanda laughed, shaking her head as she stood. "I'm gonna check what we've got for breakfast before y'all say something reckless."
She walked toward the kitchen—but not before Ericka reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her in for a quick, warm kiss.
Ava stared for a second longer, heart thudding, a blush blooming high on her cheeks.
The kitchen smelled like heaven—or, more specifically, sizzling turkey bacon, garlic butter toast, and freshly cracked eggs dancing in the skillet.
Amanda stood barefoot at the stove, oversized sleep tee hitting mid-thigh, a satin apron tied around her waist. Her curls were pinned up messily, and her eyes flicked between the pan and the countertop where chopped bell peppers and cheese waited to join the party.
Ericka stood nearby, opening a chilled bottle of prosecco with practiced ease, the sleeves of her loose gray sweater pushed up as she prepped the morning mimosas.
Her hair was up in a soft bun, gold hoops catching the morning light.
The whole moment had a sort of sexy, slow-motion vibe—like an intimate kitchen scene from a rom-com that was definitely rated R.
Amanda looked over her shoulder, teasing, "Don't forget the orange juice this time, Ms. Champagne-First."
Ericka shot her a look over the rim of her glass. "One time. One time I gave you a glass of straight prosecco."
"And I was tipsy before eggs," Amanda laughed, flipping the toast.
From behind them, Ava padded into the kitchen in one of Ericka's oversized hoodies and nothing else. Her legs were bare, and she moved like someone who wasn't quite done flirting with danger.
Her eyes flicked to Amanda, who was focused on breakfast, then over to Ericka—who had just reached into the fridge for the orange juice.
That's when she moved.
Smooth. Quiet.
Ava came up behind Ericka and wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing herself flush against her back. Her hands slid up beneath the hem of Ericka's sweater, palms warm against her stomach. "Mmm... I like this domestic CEO version of you," Ava murmured, lips close to Ericka's ear.
Ericka let out a soft laugh, her hand still holding the juice carton mid-pour. "You like danger," she said under her breath, not pulling away.
Amanda turned slightly, catching the scene out of the corner of her eye—the closeness, Ava's boldness, Ericka's smirk.
Her gaze dropped to Ava's hands and then flicked up to meet Ericka's eyes.
Ericka didn't move, but her smirk deepened as she met Amanda's gaze. "Are we letting her get away with this?" she asked casually.
Amanda arched a brow, tossing cheese into the eggs and stirring slowly. "That depends. Is she helping with breakfast or just being breakfast?"
Ava grinned against Ericka's shoulder. "You know I'm multi-talented."
Ericka turned her head slightly, her lips ghosting over Ava's cheek but stopping short of a kiss. "Then prove it. Get the plates."
Ava pouted but stepped back, fingers dragging slowly across Ericka's waist as she did.
Amanda bit back a smile and focused on plating the toast. "You two are gonna burn something down if you keep flirting like that."
Ericka grabbed the mimosa glasses and walked over, placing one next to Amanda. "You love it."
"I love breakfast," Amanda said, pecking her on the cheek. "Everything else is just... garnish."
Ericka leaned in and whispered, "You're the main course."
Behind them, Ava dramatically fanned herself with a paper towel. "You two are impossible."
Amanda smirked as she turned off the stove. "And you're jealous."
"Maybe," Ava said, reaching for a mimosa of her own. "But I'm also hungry."
Ericka raised her glass. "Then let's eat. Before Amanda melts the stove with how fine she looks in that apron."
Amanda blushed, but the look in her eyes said she liked it.