Page 43 of When We Were Younger

"Well, I haven't been a monk," I interrupt her stuttering. "But yeah, I haven't-“ god I hate that I'm a grown man about to use this phrase. “I haven'tgone all the waywith anyone since you. There were a few women, there was intimacy, but it never felt right. There was always something holding me back from taking that step."

She stares up at me, her bottom lip trembling.

"Last night was the first time for me, too. It was the same for me. There were men, but I couldn’t ever get myself to go there with them. None of them were you," she whispers, and my stomach does a flip. I didn't know how good that would feel to hear. Not in a shame-y kind of way. I haven't been purposefully waiting around with my dick tucked safely away until Dorothea came back and asked for it. I never expected her not to have moved on, either.

But something about this, knowing that the kind of sex we had last night, the kind of sex we had for the first time together all those years ago is something that only she and I share? That feels fucking good. I have tokiss her. I can't help it. I need her mouth on mine, eyes of the Bitties be damned. I swoop down and claim her lips, tasting her sweetness.

"Sweetheart, would you like to come upstairs and go all the way with me again?" I murmur against her lips.

She nods, and for a little while longer, this thing that we share is just ours.

23

DOTTIE

"Ugh, Stephen, stop," I murmur, fanning a hand in front of my face to stop the onslaught of slobbery kisses. I've been loving all the affection he's bestowed upon me, but I don't particularly want my face licked, especially before I've had coffee.

We spent the entire day in bed yesterday, talking and watching Netflix and fucking. It was a wonderful crash course in learning who we are as adults–what are our favorite TV shows? (BridgertonandNFL Redzonefor him,Love Islandfor me). Does he still love pepperoni and bacon on his pizza? (Yes, but only if he has antacids at the ready). Do I still not know how to parallel park? (Nope, LA beat that skill into me).

And instead of an A plus, our hard work learning everything we can about each other was rewarded with orgasms.

Many, many orgasms.

"Stop what?" He sighs sleepily from behind metightening his hold on my body as he nuzzles his face into my neck. My eyes snap open and I realize it's Daisy May who has her tongue up my nostril, not Stephen. I'm partly relieved, part grossed out. I wiggle an arm free from the cuddle-cocoon I've woken up in and scratch the pooch between the ears. She lays her face on the mattress and settles into the pets I'm giving her.

"Daisy May seems to think my face is her breakfast. I thought it was you trying to get busy," I say as Stephen starts brushing soft kisses from my neck up to my ear. He pauses his lips and nips at my earlobe.

"Should I be horrified that you mistook my dog licking your face with me trying to kiss you awake?"

"Well, your morning breath isn't all that different from hers," I tease, then squeal as he rolls over me so that he's on top and pins me to the mattress with his hips.

"Oh this morning breath?" He emphasizes each breath out, blowing air into my face and tickling my sides as I squirm beneath him. I make a big show of holding my own breath and trying to avoid his stink cloud, but in all honesty, it's not that bad. I mean, it's not the freshest he's ever smelled, but I'm not about to start gagging or anything.

"Please, Stephen! Please! Mercy! Uncle! Let me go!" I gasp as his tickling fingers find their way to the most sensitive spot under my arms.

"Take it back, Dorothea. Say my morning breath smells like roses."

"It does! It smells like roses!" I concede. He rewardsme with a kiss between my breasts and stops his tickling.

"That's my good girl," he purrs. His praise trips a wire in my brain and I go from laughing with him to needing him, biblically and immediately. I press my hips up in an attempt to find some friction, but he tuts as he rolls off of me and out of the bed.

"Save it, Dorothea. I've got to take Daisy May for her morning w-a-l-k."

Daisy May, smart pup that she is, isn't fooled by his spelling. In an instant, she's bounding out the open bedroom door and returning with her leash between her teeth. Stephen pulls on a pair of jeans–sans underwear, and dear god why is that so hot? I sit up in bed, pulling my knees up to my chest under the blanket.

"I can come with you," I say, even though the thought of braving the cold morning air while waiting for Daisy May to do her business doesn't sound like my cup of tea at all. I try not to seem too relieved when Stephen shakes his head.

"You stay here, sweetheart. Keep the bed warm for me, yeah? I've got plans for you when I return." He winks and leashes up his pup, and with a lingering kiss on my lips, he's out the door.

My stomach rumbles and I pull out my phone, pleasantly surprised when I see that even this podunk town has discovered the magic of food delivery apps. I never thought I'd see Miss Pattie's Precious Pies & Sweet Treats boasting thirty-minute or less delivery times, but I'm not mad about it. I place an order for halfa dozen donuts, two coffees, and a slice of carrot cake for a healthy snack to share later. Then I roll out of bed, pulling on a pair of panties and sliding one of Stephen's worn-in flannels from the chair in the corner over my shoulders. I don't bother buttoning the shirt. It's big enough to cover to keep me warm just like this.

I pad across his chilly wooden floor to the bathroom, taking care of business and brushing my teeth. My hair miraculously survived a night of sex and cuddling thanks to the bun I tossed it in after Stephen pulled me to the edge of the bed and ate me out for what felt like forever last night. I go to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee, because waiting for Miss Pattie's to deliver my first jolt of caffeine just won't do.

As I place a mug under the drip of the single-cup brewer, there's a knock at the door. I left my phone in the bedroom, but I know that it can't be our breakfast already. I spot a set of keys on the counter and realize that Stephen must have forgotten them before he and Daisy May left.

Looking down at myself in his shirt, the open flannel just barely covering my breasts and showing off my flat stomach and pink panties, I smirk to myself. I saunter to the door, popping out a hip as I fiddle with the lock. I let the flannel drop down one shoulder, and the fabric just barely covers my nipple as I open the door.

"Hey stud, you ready for another round," I say in my huskiest sex kitten voice, and then I yelp, because that's not Stephen on the other side of the door. Nope, that'sanother man entirely, holding out a pink box and staring up at the sky, pretending like he didn't just get an eyeful of my bare breast.

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