Sunday Morning The room was bathed in the soft, forgiving light of a Sunday morning, the air still thick with the ghosts of perfume, sweat, and sin. Hope lay with her head on Rob’s chest, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath her ear. His fingers traced the line of her spine, possessive and calm. “Top three,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration against her skin. “Start with the best. The one you’ll dream about when you’r...

The afternoon sun was a warm, golden blanket on Shelly’s secluded deck. Rob and Matt had decided to go golfing with some buddies while Ryan dragged Emma home to recover. Hope stretched like a contented cat in her lounger, the pleasant ache in her muscles a constant, thrilling reminder of the night before. The ice in her glass of rosé clinked softly as she took a sip. Shelly passed her a cigarette she had lit for her, a wi...

The morning sun filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting golden patterns across the tangled sheets where Hope and Shelly lay entwined. Hope stirred first, her body a symphony of pleasant aches and satisfied exhaustion. She blinked open her eyes to find Shelly already watching her, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Morning, beautiful," Shelly murmured, her voice still husky from sleep and passion. Hope stretched lan...