Abby
I wake up warm; the sunlight streaming through the curtains is brighter than I’m used to. Then I remember, I’m in Hannah’s room. No, our room now. The thought sends a flutter through my chest.
I’m not sure what woke me up or what I was dreaming about, but the wet pulse between my legs gives me a pretty good idea.
The bed is soft beneath me; the sheets tangled around my legs. Hannah lies beside me, her breathing slow and even. She’s still asleep, her blonde hair fanned out across the pillow, one arm draped over her stomach. Her sleep shirt has ridden up, revealing the curve of her waist and the pale pink panties she’s wearing.
My gaze lingers, tracing the lines of her body, the way her skin glows in the morning light. It’s rare for me to wake before her, and I decide to steal this quiet moment to study her without her knowing.
I bite my lip, my heart skipping a beat. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and I don’t want to disturb her. Not after everything she did for me yesterday—helping me pack, organize, and move my things. She worked so hard, and now she’s finally resting.
But the sight of her, the warmth of her body so close to mine, makes that subtle ache I woke up with grow. My skin feels too tight, my body humming. I shift slightly, the dampness between my thighs impossible to ignore.
I glance at Hannah again, making sure she’s still asleep. Her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, her lips slightly parted. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But the need is too strong, too insistent to ignore.
