~Lily~
The house was finally quiet.
The dog was asleep.
The dishes were done.
The microwave was dead.
And the kids?
OUT.
Luca snoring like a tractor. Aurora face-down in a pile of glitter and crayons.
But I didn’t care.
Because finally, after a day of toddler warfare and appliance casualties, I had ten blessed minutes of peace, no bra, no noise, and the man I never stopped aching for stepping out of the shower with nothing but a towel and a mission.
And when I say mission—I mean destruction.
He didn’t say a word.
Just locked the door, looked at me, and dropped the towel like gravity itself had no hold on him.
Holy. f**k.
Three years later, and he still looked like a walking sin. That tattoo on his hip that I swore glowed in the dark. And his c**k? Already hard. Already leaki
