Chapter Nineteen
Josie blinked herself awake as the first touches of morning sunlight trickled through the curtains. Last night, she had the most amazing dream.
A sex dream.
A blur of lips and fingers and hot slides of centers ran in flashes across her eyes.
But Josie only had to tilt her gaze down a fraction to see that it hadn’t been a dream.
It had actually happened. She was in Peyton’s bed, in Peyton’s room.
She was actually in the house that was so lovely and cozy with its olive-green trim and light grey shingle roof and bushes of sweet-smelling lavender.
And even more convincing than that, was Peyton still lying on top of her. Her cheek was pressed flat just above Josie’s left breast, a soft whistle sounded cutely from her nose and Josie’s calf rested still on Peyton’s bare hamstring.
The post-sex tangle.
It easily topped her list of favorite things in the world. She could happily stay like that forever.
Easily ignore the slight cramp in her back, the pins, and needles in her left arm, and she would have stayed forever in that statue still position if Peyton’s body hadn’t shifted and wriggled.
“Morning,” she said, sleepy-eyed and gorgeous. Peyton slid off Josie before she moved to lie on her side. “How did you sleep?” Peyton’s fingers sleepily found Josie’s, interlacing them together.
“Morning.” Josie smiled, bringing their interwoven hands up and marveling at how perfectly they fit together.
Surely, nothing in the world could be as effortlessly perfect as this.
But her smile suddenly faded, and she snapped her head toward Peyton, frowning.
“You’re not going to run away, are you?”
Peyton laughed, her body shaking pleasantly, sending a hum vibrating right through Josie. The laughter dissolved that moment of panic before it could grow into something bigger. “This is my house, isn’t it?”
“That means nothing to me,” teased Josie, embracing the airy relief.
Peyton broke her hand free and rested her palm flat on Josie’s bare stomach, right above the navel.
Her fingers spanned out and then she moved them beneath the covers, dipping so low Josie’s body shuddered at her touch.
The shudder turned into a full-blown quake when Peyton ran a single finger down the length of her.
“I’m not leaving,” she said. “And neither are you. Not until I’ve made you my world-class pancakes. ”
“As much as I love pancakes…” Josie muttered, eyes closed, unable to concentrate on anything other than Peyton’s touch. Her entire focus was on the way Peyton was circling her finger over and over. “I can’t think about anything with your hand on my clit.”
Peyton chuckled and trailed her fingers back up, this time leaving them in place just beneath Josie’s left breast. “We could go another round, if you like?” Her eyebrows rose as if tempted. “But I think we should have breakfast first.”
As if on cue, Josie’s stomach grumbled, or more so roared like a lion. “Did we even eat something last night?”
“You mean, apart from all the ginger biscuits I wolfed down?”
“You really did a number on those.” Josie laughed and poked a finger into Peyton’s shoulder. “I’m surprised you didn’t turn into one.”
“Yeah? So that you can eat me up like you ate me up last night?”
Josie laughed, her head pushing back into the pillow, her shoulders shaking happily. If mornings with Peyton were set to be this exciting, she very much wanted to sign up for a lifetime subscription—or at least a trial period, since it was still early days. Very early days.
“Exactly.” Josie winked and reached for one of Peyton’s loose curls, tugging it gently and watching it spring back into place. “How did you sleep?
“Like a baby.”
“You know babies wake up like a hundred times a night. That’s why you see parents with those dark circles under their eyes.”
Peyton chuckled. “Like a very well-behaved baby, then. The kind that sleeps straight through the night.”
“No such thing.”
“So, you’re an expert in all things baby, then?”
“Yes,” said Josie matter-of-factly. “I had to babysit Noah all by myself once. He was like four months old at the time, and I can tell you now, I didn’t sleep for more than five minutes.” Her stomach grumbled again.
“Let’s get you some food,” said Peyton, smiling. “Before you try to take a bite of me.” She kissed Josie on the neck, right below her jaw. Her lips were warm and silky soft. Then she rolled out of the bed and ambled to the built-in closet across the room.
Josie watched her go, studying the soft curves of her ass and the taut muscles of her back. If only the world was turned upside down, and clothes weren’t acceptable, and Josie could admire Peyton’s nakedness on a full-time basis.
At the thought, she laughed out loud and then quickly slapped her hand over her mouth. But it was too late. Peyton was already glancing back over her shoulder with a deep frown on her face. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” said Josie, shaking her head, lifting the sheets up to just beneath her neck, as if somehow the sheets could rectify the ill-placed laugh.
With a look like Veritaserum, Peyton said, “Tell me. I want to know.”
“Fine,” relented Josie. “I was just thinking you should probably walk around naked… forever. Like never put your clothes back on.”
A gleam shone in Peyton’s eyes, brightening the sapphire blue to an almost electric shimmer of neon lights. She dropped the gown she had just grabbed from the closet and then ran toward the bed. Her breasts were bouncing so deliciously that Josie felt a hum between her thighs.
Peyton then leaped onto it and smashed her lips lovingly against Josie’s, their bodies pressed flat together. “I’ll only walk naked if you do,” she muttered, sighing into Josie’s mouth.
It felt so damn good. So surreal, as if Josie was in limbo, floating somewhere between reality and the life she had always wanted. The very life she had always dreamed about.
Even last night’s sex had felt like more than just sex, more than a good fuck. There had been something else there, something deeper and stronger and more than just a biological urge, a need to satisfy. They hadn’t just had sex. They had made love.
Life was funny sometimes.
A few weeks ago, Peyton had dodged Josie like she was a bullet, and now they were laughing and sharing and making love.
Everything had taken a drastic turn after their horror movie night.
A complete one-eighty after Peyton had opened up a bit of herself, enough for Josie to see that lovely gooey inside of her.
Josie could witness the part she had been protecting and guarding with an entire army of tiny Peyton soldiers.
Who knew the way to Peyton’s heart was a boxset of the movie Halloween?
The kiss ended way too soon, and Josie was still fumbling her way back to Peyton when the woman jumped back up and walked back to the robe lying in a silky heap on the floor. “Kitchen. Five minutes,” said Peyton, slipping her arm into the sleeve. “I’ll get started on the breakfast.”
“I’ll be right there,” said Josie, kicking off the sheet. Once Peyton disappeared into the hallway, Josie jumped out of bed, shook her hips in some embarrassing happy dance she only reserved for when she was alone, and snatched her clothes off the floor.
By the time she walked into the kitchen, and the sweet smell of bacon sizzled in the air, her stomach was grumbling in a continuous, insistent growl, demanding immediate attention.
“Pancakes and bacon. Smells delicious,” said Josie, moving to stand behind Peyton.
She stuck her face into the woman’s hair and embraced the tickle on her cheeks.
Her citrus shampoo was both intoxicating and nostalgic, triggering her olfactory receptors and transporting her into carefree summer days on the beach, running along the shore at sunset.
Sometimes Josie swore she had known Peyton in another lifetime, in one of her past lives, perhaps.
And somehow, the hand of fate had brought them back together for another chance at a love story that might never have reached its end.
A bell suddenly rang, cutting her thoughts in half.
“Expecting anyone?” Josie asked, stepping back and glancing to the living room. Not that she could see anything through the window because the front door was set off to the side of the house.
“Not that I can think of,” replied Peyton, pouring pancake batter into a pan. “Do you mind checking for me? This is a very delicate stage of the process.”
“Of course.”
“If it’s a little girl with cute blonde pigtails, about nine years old…” said Peyton, waving the spatula in the air. “… don’t let her convince you to buy a box of Nutter Butters. She’s been putting up her price every time she comes here.”
“Got it,” said Josie as she headed to the door. “No Nutter Butters.”
“Or maybe just one box,” called Peyton. “There’s some cash in the drawer.”
Smoothing out her wrinkly shirt, hoping she didn’t have sex hair, or remnants of mascara on her cheeks, Josie reached the door at the same time the bell rang again.
Not bothering to check the peephole, she unlocked the door and swung it open.
“Hi,” said a woman standing on the top step. She was gorgeous. She had sun-kissed locks of spun gold, honey-hued skin that seemed to glow and freckles covering her nose like a perfect starry constellation, the kind you’d see up in print at the observatory.
But it wasn’t just the hair or the face, or the way she looked like a young Brooke Shields. It was also the tattoos on her arm. Delicate ivy cascaded down her biceps, making Josie swallow hard.
“Umm… Hi,” said Josie awkwardly, bouncing on the balls of her feet, not sure what else to say. What did a person say to a woman who looked that stunning, standing at the front door of the woman Josie had slept with the night before?
“Is Peyton around?” she asked, smiling, showing off perfect white teeth. “I was told she lives here now. But I could easily have gotten the wrong address.” She stepped back, snapped her head left to right, and frowned. Despite the frown, there was barely a line on her face.
“Peyton lives here,” Josie said quickly, eager to please this woman, as if her well-being depended on making her happy. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know her from Adam, or that a queasy feeling was making its way into her stomach, or that the hair on her arms was standing up.
“Oh, good.” She grinned as she looked past Josie’s shoulder into the short hallway. “Can you call her for me, please?”
Josie was just about to do that, to call her seriously hot girlfriend—the term wasn’t official but felt fitting—and introduce her to another very hot woman, when she came to her senses. “I’m sorry,” she said, lifting both arms to opposite sides of the doorway. “But who are you?”
The woman smiled in that cutesy apologetic way that was far too bewitching for Josie’s liking and basically sang, “Oh sorry, of course. Bad manners.” She stuck out her tanned hand. “I’m Sorel.”