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Ruairidh slowly stirred awake, stretching like a cat. Every muscle felt loose, deliciously heavy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well. The mattress was ridiculously soft, the pillows faintly scented with lavender and jasmine. That was a great sleep, he thought, rolling onto his back with a satisfied groan. Then it hit him—this wasn’t his bed. This was Jenn’s.
He glanced around, suddenly alert, but the other side of the bed was empty. Sitting up, he checked the alarm clock. 10:30 a.m. Wow. He’d properly slept in.
Somewhere in the house, faint music played, and if his nose wasn’t deceiving him… baking?
“Morning, sleepyhead!”
Jenn breezed into the bedroom and perched on the bed. Ruairidh’s cock stood to attention at the sight of her. Her hair was tousled and loose, her lips were deliciously swollen, and she had that gorgeous post-coital glow about her.
Ìosa, she looked like she’d been thoroughly fucked.
Which she had. By him.
The cotton shorts showed off her legs, while the vest top did absolutely nothing to hide her pert nipples pressing against the fabric. His body didn’t seem to care that he was still half-asleep or in someone else’s bed. One look at her, and he was ready all over again.
“I didn’t realise the time…” Ruairidh grunted, raking a hand through his hair.
“Oh! I didn’t know you had to go, or I’d have woken you earlier,” Jenn said, suddenly apologetic.
“No, no.” Ruairidh grinned. “Just don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
Jenn gave him a look—slightly nervous, slightly hopeful. Her hands had started fluttering again, the way they always did when she was trying to downplay something—he found it ridiculously endearing. “You’re not. Honestly. I was just coming in to see if you fancied a coffee and a breakfast muffin?”
“Ìosa, could you get any better?” he groaned, yanking her into a kiss that was deep, grateful, hungry.
After a few blissful minutes, Jenn wriggled away, cheeks flushed. “As much as I’d love round three—or is it four?—I have to keep an eye on the baking!”
“Four,” he said with a roguish grin. “But I suppose a muffin will make up for it.”
She kissed him quickly and got up, heading for the door. “No rush. They’re cooling on the racks now.”
Ruairidh leaned back against the headboard, letting last night play through his mind. It had been… amazing. No awkwardness. Just a slow, delicious build of anticipation. Laughing and teasing like they’d known each other for years. Then, back at hers… well.
They’d gone at each other like a storm.
The first round on the couch had been frantic—clothes half on, hands everywhere. Then Jenn had dragged him into the bedroom, and they’d done it all over again. Twice. And bloody hell… she was bendy. He was screwed. Figuratively and literally.
Shite. He’d better get up or he was going to embarrass himself right there in her bed. Besides, all that exercise had made him starving…
Padding into the kitchen in just his boxers, he grabbed his jumper from the back of a chair—then stopped dead.
“Bloody hell!” He stared at the scene before him. “How long have you been doing all this?”
He should’ve felt out of place. Standing barefoot in someone else’s kitchen, boxers and bedhead, watching muffins cool. But somehow, he didn’t.
Jenn glanced up shyly from behind a tray. “Well… after our, erm, last session… I decided to get started on the baking for the café.”
She brushed a rebellious curl back from her face, only for it to spring loose again. He bit back a smile—she never seemed to realise how much he noticed those little things.
The counters were covered with temptation: breakfast muffins, chocolate sponges, fruit scones, vanilla cupcakes, and loaves still baking in the oven. The warm, sugary scent wrapped around him.
“I’ve actually died and gone to heaven,” he muttered, wide-eyed.
“Sorry, they’re not all for you,” Jenn said with a grin. “But for starters, here’s your coffee and a breakfast muffin.” She handed him a large mug of fresh coffee and a ginormous muffin before following him to the living room and sitting on the sofa.
“I think your sisters have each sent about twenty messages.” Jenn laughed, nodding at the buzzing phones. “Plus, I’ve had an equal number from Vivi, Lizzie, Cathy Ann, and everyone else.”
“They can all wait,” he said, quickly scrolling through Ally, Donnie, and Enrique’s messages with a smirk. Nosey bastards. Some things never changed. But everything else had.
