This fucking couch . . .

It’s cushy enough, sure, but it’s way too short for my legs. I’ve been tossing and turning all night, trying to find a comfortable position to no avail.

To be fair, it’s not the couch’s fault.

Whenever I come here with Nicole, I sleep well enough in this couch. That’s why I’ve been putting off sectioning another room in the basement and making it a second bedroom.

Really, it’s Sophia’s fault.

I keep jerking awake, thinking she has come out of her bedroom. I hear noises but I’m sure it’s just my imagination.

Around dinner time, I knocked on the bedroom door, but I didn’t hear an answer. When I pressed my ear against the door to listen, all I heard was the regular rhythm of her breathing.

She could sleep. What’s wrong with me?

There it is again. The click of the door being unlocked. Stop imagining things, man. No matter how much I fantasize about it, she won’t come out here naked and climb up on top of me like I want her to.

But God, I’d die happy if I get to experience that.

Actually, if I can make a dying wish, I want her to get between my legs and take my dick into her mouth. I can just imagine her tongue swirling over the head of my cock and her plump lips sliding up and down my shaft . . .

Man, my imagination just won’t stop. Now I’m hearing light footsteps and something dragging against the floor, like Sophia is shedding her clothes as she approaches me.

That won’t happen, though. She’s been staying the fuck away from me like she’s afraid of me.

Maybe I should’ve taken things more slowly. Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried to kiss her a second time.

But, what the fuck was I supposed to do when she leaned in toward me and closed her eyes?

That’s the stuff of my fantasies, right there. I couldn’t have just let the moment slip out of my hands. I’d kill myself—hell, I’d die of regret without ever having to pull a trigger.

Jesus, when will my hallucinations stop? The noises just won’t stop.

I should just rub one out. Maybe that’ll help me sleep.

But, what if Sophia comes out for real and sees me grabbing my own dick and jerking myself off?

Ah, fuck this.

I’ll get up and make myself a drink. I need to take a piss anyway.

I sit up and rub my eyes.

Is that . . . What the fuck is that, right by the fireplace? A pile of . . . clothes? No, a blanket.

I doubt I would’ve been dumb enough to place a flammable material right by an open fire without any supervision. I could wake up to a cabin on fire, which I guess would keep Sophia and me warm despite the snow storm, at least for a few hours.

With a grunt, I get up to inspect whatever it is. If it’s just a figment of my imagination, I’ll find out soon enough.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I hear Sophia say, clear as day.

I couldn’t have imagined that, could I?

Squinting at the bundle of blanket by the fireplace, I ask, “Sophia?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” she says. The blanket shifts on the ground until I finally see Sophia’s red hair highlighted by the flickering flame behind her and her beautiful face in the shadows.

“What are you doing up?”

That’s a stupid question, idiot, I scold myself in my head.

She’s been asleep for, what, six hours? She’s probably wide awake right now, even though it’s—I glance at the clock—three a.m.

“It’s too cold in the bedroom.” Sophia pauses. “Did you turn off the heat?”

“Of course not.” I glance at the closed bedroom door, reluctant to leave her now that she’s here. But, she’s looking at me expectantly, and I recognize the opportunity to solve her problem and become her hero. “Let me check.”

As expected, the bedroom is cold as a tomb. I inspect the windows but every single one of them is properly sealed.

When I leave the bedroom, I make sure to close the door behind me and seal the cold air inside.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know what happened,” I tell Sophia as I check the thermostat. “It shouldn’t have gotten that cold in there.”

“I thought maybe something broke,” she says softly.

Sophia remains calm and doesn’t blame me when something goes wrong. That’s one of the things I love about her and definitely something I missed when I tried seeing other girls.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? It can’t be comfortable, sleeping on the floor like that.”

“You underestimate how comfortable it is here. It’s warm, and the blanket is soft and cozy.” Sophia smiles. Her sleepy eyes make me want to snuggle next to her and lay her head on my chest until she falls back asleep.

But, I have a job to do.

“I’ll go downstairs and check the furnace. It should be something I can fix. I have enough supplies in storage.” I grab a glass from the kitchen shelf and a bottle of Chianti. Handing both to Sophia, I say, “Here. In case you need something to warm you up.”

As she takes my offering, her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes soften with recognition, though, and her lips curl up into a small, adorable smile.

She remembers.

“This is what we used to drink whenever we were here,” I say even though I know she already knows.

“Yeah.” As Sophia looks up, her smile widens. She says, “Thank you.”

“You should know I’ve upgraded, though.”

“I noticed.” Sophia grins. “We used to get the $10 bottle. This looks like it costs multiple times that.”

“Yeah. I didn’t have time to show you the kick-ass cellar in the basement,” I say, deliberately leaving out the part about her running away from me like a scared little bunny. I grin back at her instead. “Five times more expensive, to be exact.”

“Well, we are older, I guess.”

“We are.” As I look deep into her eyes, regret grows heavy in my chest.

I’ve wasted the past seven years when I could’ve spent them with her . . . I told myself I did it for her own good—and for Nicole’s.

But now, seeing what I’ve been missing . . . All the experiences she had while she was away from me, shaping her into the person sitting in front of me right now . . .

Damn, I would’ve loved watching her grow into this stunning, confident, self-assured young woman.

We say nothing, but I can sense the air changing, growing warmer, more familiar.

Sophia breaks eye contact as she looks down to open the bottle and pour some red wine into the glass.

“I should, uh, go downstairs and check the furnace,” I tell her, clearing my throat.

“You can leave that until the morning if you want. It’s late,” Sophia says.

“Nah. I already told you I was going to fix it, so that’s what I’ll do now.”

She already has trouble trusting me. I won’t give her more reason to keep doubting my words.

Besides, she looks so tempting right now with her eyes heavy-lidded and her guard down. She’s even about to drink—if she still reacts to alcohol the same way, that will only lower her inhibitions even more, in no more than ten sips.

I love this woman. With all my heart, I swear to God, I do. I won’t take advantage of her.

But, seeing her all vulnerable and more receptive than ever will make it hard for me to stick to that decision.