Her feet rested in Will’s lap as he watched a ball game on TV. He absently rubbed her ankle. She picked up the book resting on her belly. And stared at the page, unable to focus on a single word. Her friends were on their way over—for dinner and movies. Just a lazy day at home. She should be content. And she was…kind of. The day had been perfect. A long morning in bed followed by a quiet breakfast and coffee over the paper. Then a shared shower… Emma felt her cheeks warm and her stomach clench. Oh lordy, the shower. She squirmed against the twitch, twitch between her legs. She glanced at Will over the top of her book. He winked and circled a finger around her ankle bone. “Doing okay, sweetheart?” She smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Good game?” “Eh, it’s pretty much over. You ready to make spaghetti?” He ran his hand up her calf, past her knee, under the loose skirt she wore. “I don’t understand why we can’t order take out, Will. Making dinner just seems like a lot of work—especially making the sauce from scratch.”
