Waking up with my body against hard muscles shocks the shit out of me. Making sure I’m not still dreaming, I slowly peel open my eyes. I don’t recognize the room as the sun peeks through the windows, but I can tell it’s early morning. This isn’t the same room we started in last night. But I don’t have much time to analyze it because when memories start flooding in, my cheeks heat. All the things he did to me, all the ways he molded my body, and the way I responded to them. Holy shit. Yes, we did that. No, I don’t have any regrets.

Nerves take over as I think about sneaking out and doing the walk of shame. I haven’t had to face a one-night stand since my early college days, so I feel completely disoriented. It’s not like I can just leave and avoid him anyway, but the anxiety of facing him has me overthinking everything.

However, the weight of Ethan’s bicep holds me in place. There’s no way I can slip out of bed without waking him. As if he heard my thoughts, he hums against the shell of my ear and pulls me closer to him until my back presses against his warm, hard chest. Our bodies fit together like two jagged pieces of a puzzle that somehow line up perfectly. We both have our sharp edges, but somehow it works. His strong arms hold me like I’m his, and I can’t help but smile at the fantasy of it all—because that’s what it is—make believe. We’ve both agreed that this isn’t anything more than sex and a good time.

Though I write sex scenes in descriptive detail in my novels, this morning, I have no words. That’s something that doesn’t happen often. Me, speechless? Yep. Being with him was exhilarating, to say the least. We’re adults who are obviously missing something in our lives. Last night, Ethan made me realize exactly what I’ve been missing, unadulterated sex with no attachments.

One-night stands are not in my sexual repertoire. Too many times I’ve overly romanticized relationships, but the men I’ve dated were basically worthless, so there’s that. No man has been able to live up to the expectations as the ones I write—alpha males, smart, loyal, perfect. After all my failed relationships, I’m fairly certain my perfect real-life hero doesn’t exist, and if he does, I’m sure he’s taken.

“Morning,” Ethan says in a husky, deep tone against the crook of my neck. Goose bumps travel along my skin as he slides his hand across my bare stomach. I turn my head as his honey-colored eyes flutter open.

“Morning,” I say, happy it’s not as awkward as I imagined it’d be. Then again, knowing this is purely physical without any strings attached helps. I can open my heart for a few days then seal it back tight before I get back to Chicago as if nothing ever happened. My secret will stay in South Carolina, and Ethan will be my perfect sexspiration.

“Coffee?” I ask, ready to get my day started. Just as I scoot away from him to place my feet on the floor, he pulls me back to face him.

“Not so fast,” he says with a sexy smirk on his lips.

My heart feels as if it will beat right out of my chest. Ethan rolls over, his face hovering above mine.

“Don’t think I’m going to stop giving you shit just because I fucked your brains out.” He winks, and I know for certain nothing has changed.

I laugh at his blunt confession and go along with it. “Honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I mock, just before he places a sweet, lingering kiss on my lips as his hand slides up my body and cups my breast. Folgers has nothing on Ethan Rochester. Morning sex is now the best part of waking up.

I sink into the taste of him, his hands exploring my body as our legs intertwine together and a noise from the hallway has us parting.

“Shit,” he whispers.

He turns his body just as the door swings open. Scrambling, I quickly pull the sheet up to my chin as I stare at an older woman with salt and pepper hair, and a soft, sweet face. Her cheekbones are high, and I can tell she was really beautiful when she was younger, but time has been good to her. She makes eye contact with me then looks over at Ethan who gives no fucks that he’s naked. The sheet covers the lower half of his body and instead of trying to hide from her, he places his hands behind his head.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” he says to her with a sly smile on his lips, and something about their expressions makes me think this isn’t the first time this woman has caught him in bed with someone.

She crosses the room and smacks him across the head. “I know your mama taught you some manners. Now you gonna introduce us or what?”

My cheeks burn, and I’m shocked as she reaches her arm across Ethan’s naked body to shake my hand.

“Honey, my name is Millie. I’m Ethan’s favorite aunt.”

“My only aunt.” Ethan snorts.

I grab her hand in mine and shake it, making sure to keep my breasts covered. “I’m Vada.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Vada. Sorry, my inconsiderate nephew forgot his manners this morning. Must have had a late night.” She looks him up and down. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t keep me waitin’.”

Millie turns and gives me a sweet smile before leaving the room. I can hear the stairs creak with each step she takes.

“What the hell was that?” I ask with a nervous laugh, pulling the sheets tighter against my naked body.

He turns toward me and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling my body to his. “Sorry, that’s Aunt Millie. She likes to come over unannounced sometimes. But usually there’s not a woman in my bed, so I’m sure I’ll have some explainin’ to do.” He grins, pressing a quick kiss against my cheek. “Get dressed and meet us downstairs. I’m pretty sure she’ll be cooking something, and Aunt Millie doesn’t like it when people let her food get cold. Don’t get on her bad side this early in the day. She’s a grudge holder.” Ethan winks at me before slipping on a pair of jogging pants and leaving me alone in his room.

I sit quiet and still and can hear her muffled voice along with Ethan’s. Scanning the room, I search for my clothes and remember they were in the other room. Wrapping the sheet around my body, I hurry down the hall, open the door, and find them in a crumpled pile on the floor. I tiptoe across the worn wooden boards and glance over and see Wilma staring at me with her judgmental cat eyes. Each time I look at her, I think of my Oliver at home. He’s a long-haired Siamese I rescued a few years ago. Most of the time, he’s the only thing I talk to during the day. He’s pretentious, but I think Wilma may have him beat on many other levels.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper-hiss at her. “I’m not peeing on your territory.”

Her tail flicks a few times before she turns around and prances down the stairs. I can hear the bell on her collar ring out, almost mocking me.

After I slip on my clothes, I find the bathroom and wash my face and freshen up. I’m sure more than enough time has passed beyond just getting dressed, but I try to work up the courage to face them both downstairs as if nothing happened between us. But considering his aunt now saw us naked in his bed, there’s no story that can cover up what happened last night. Oh, God. I wrinkle my nose. Does his room smell like sex and shame?

I run my fingers through my hair until it’s halfway workable and throw it up into a messy knot before taking the stairs down and walking into the kitchen. Ethan’s leaning against the counter showcasing his bare chest and hard muscles with a cup of coffee in his hand. His hair is a mess, but he easily swipes a hand through it, making it look as desirable as always. His lips move, flashing his perfect white teeth, and soon he’s laughing at something and so is Millie.

“So, Vada,” Millie drawls in a deeper accent than Ethan’s. She pours coffee into one of his beautiful mugs and hands it to me. “Ethan tells me you’re an author and write those romance books I like to read.”

My cheeks heat and my eyes go wide. I met this woman ten minutes ago, naked in her nephew’s bed, and now the only thing she knows about me is that I write steamy romance. Worst first impression ever.

“Actually, I told her you write smutty romance books,” Ethan corrects with a grin. “But she knew what I was talking about. Millie’s a dirty old woman, so don’t let her sweet face and southern drawl fool you,” he warns, teasing us both. “She probably even has one of those red rooms of pain in her house.”

I narrow my eyes at him, and I’m halfway certain Millie is going to slap him upside the head again, but instead, she sets a plate in front of me with the breakfast works—bacon, eggs, and toast. Ethan sits next to me and smiles as Millie works around this kitchen like she owns the place, setting out salt, pepper, butter, and jelly in the middle of the table.

“I do like those romance books. An old woman like me can use as much loving she can get, even if it’s through fiction. I love me some Danielle Steele and that E.L. James,” she laughs, pretending to fan herself. “Ethan dear, you talk about the red room of pain as if you’ve read Fifty Shades.”

He shuts up, which only causes me to burst into laughter.

“Did you really read it?” I ask, intrigued, and remember our safe word conversation from last night. He totally did.

“He likes to act like he’s some hotshot, but I’m pretty sure I saw a few copies of it floating around the studio,” Millie tells me matter-of-factly. “And, he has a Fifty Shades of Grey inspired mug, too.”

“I was capitalizing, Aunt Millie. Research. And honestly, who hasn’t read it? The FedEx guy told me he read it five times,” he tells her, talking with his mouth full.

“Ethan Booker Rochester! I know your mama taught you better manners than talking with a mouth full of food.” She scolds him like he’s twelve, and it warms my heart that she doesn’t take his shit either.

“Booker?” I arch a brow, teasingly.

“Family name,” he explains, shrugging.

“Never would’ve taken you for a romance reader,” I tease. “You seem more like the kind of guy who prefers pictures.”

Millie smiles and sips her coffee, eyeing the two of us behind her mug. “So what’s the story between you two anyway?”

I was waiting for her to ask. Actually, I’m surprised it took her this long. Curiosity fills her face, and I continue eating, focusing on my food, not really sure what to say.

“She’s renting the cottage while she finishes her manuscript. Apparently, she’s on a major deadline and came here for inspiration. I think she may have found it, Aunt Millie.” Ethan pops an eyebrow up at me, and before I can even respond to his sexual innuendo, Millie continues with her questions.

“So you’re one of Ethan’s tenants?” Millie’s trying to piece together the clues of why we were naked in bed this morning. She raises her eyebrows and waits for me to respond.

“Yes, that’s correct.” I clear my throat and speak up. “I’m from Chicago.”

“Okay,” she says, her smile not faltering a bit. “Well, you two look like you’ve hit it off pretty quick. Ethan is a good boy, though sometimes he can be…arrogant.”

“Aunt Millie! I am most certainly not,” Ethan protests as he laughs.

She playfully rolls her eyes at him. “You know, I don’t like to use those swear words because it’s not ladylike, but many people, especially those of the opposite sex, believe you are.” She looks at me, then whispers, “The ladies are always chasing him, but he’s too busy shooing them away.”

“So you’re gonna blast all my secrets to Vada, are you?” He pushes himself off the counter and pours himself more coffee. “I see how it’s going to be.”

Millie winks at me, and I can’t help but smile as she removes my empty plate. I realize I do need to get to the cottage to write. My laptop is calling me, and inspiration is basically bursting from my fingertips. I’m still smiling thinking about all the words I’m about to write. I haven’t felt this excited to work in weeks.

“I should probably get to the studio. I’ve got some things I need to take care of before lunch,” Ethan says, giving Millie a sweet kiss on her cheek.

I stand, taking that as my cue to leave. “Thank you for breakfast. I really enjoyed it. It was nice to meet you.”

“It was so nice meeting you, darling. Now, don’t you be a stranger for the rest of the week. Remember to come out every once in a while to eat and give Ethan a dose of his own medicine.” She walks over to me and opens her arms to pull me into a big hug. I’m not expecting this at all, so I awkwardly hug her back. Southerners—I seriously love their friendliness—but I’m not used to it. Before I head out, I grab my cup and refill it with coffee.

“Bye,” I say with a small wave. “Thanks again for everything.” I smile at Millie before glancing over at Ethan who’s watching me with heat in his eyes.

His dark hair stacks on his head, and I have the urge to run my fingers through it. My body knows what it had and wants more—lots more. I swallow hard, a small smile playing on my lips as I replay last night before I turn around and leave.

Walking across the cobblestone that leads to the cottage, I hold my mug with a death grip and hope Ethan’s huge cock doesn’t come after me again. Just the thought makes me laugh.

I walk into the cottage and set my coffee down next to my closed laptop. I quickly change into something more comfortable and pull all my long hair up into a messy bun. Once I’m back in my writing uniform, I settle into the chair and prepare to kick my manuscript’s ass.

After opening my laptop, I crack my fingers and read the last chapter I had written. Yesterday I struggled hard, and today I’m laughing at the cursor that’s mocked me for the past few months.

As soon as my fingers hit the keys, the words fly out in sentences, paragraphs, then pages. Hours pass, and I can’t seem to pull away from writing, not right now, when I’m pouring my heart and soul into the pages, but I know I need to take a break.

Considering I’ve been here for four days already, I know I need to call Nora and check on everything back home. It’s been a while since I’ve left the house for longer than a weekend.

I stand up and stretch, allowing every vertebrae in my back to pop. That’s when I realize how sore I actually am, and the only person to blame is Ethan. Pacing, trying to stretch my legs, I grab my phone and hit Nora’s number.

The line rings over and over, and before I hang up, she picks up the phone.

“Hey, Nora,” I say with a smile on my face, trying to be as friendly as possible because sometimes she can be a grump. But that’s why I love her.

She groans then chuckles. “I was napping, Vada.”

“At ten in the morning?” I know she’s giving me shit, like usual.

“When you’re retired, it’s always nap time,” she informs me. “So what can I help you with? And before you can even ask, the cat is still alive. I’ve been feeding him every day and following the psychotic instructions you left for me.”

“Have you been giving him his treats? The beef ones in the plastic container by the coffee maker,” I remind her for probably the fourth time. Oliver is particular with his treats and doesn’t really care for the seafood ones. I’m pretty sure he can sniff out artificial fish flavor from a mile away.

“Yes, but he snubs me each time I walk in and realizes it isn’t you. I’m pretty sure he hates me.” I can hear Nora opening and closing cabinets. If I close my eyes, I can imagine her pulling one of her favorite mugs with some sarcastic saying on it from the cabinet and pouring a cup of coffee. When I hear her sip loudly, I know that’s exactly what she was doing.

“He can just sense when an angry old lady walks into the room,” I reply, trying to get a laugh from her.

“Oh, I’m sure he can.” She groans. “What’s up with you? You sound…different.” She waits for me to speak, and I wonder if she can tell something’s up. She’s over thirty years older than me and has this crazy mother's intuition when it comes to my life. Though she’s grumpy and sarcastic most of the time, I love her like a crazy aunt. When I’m lonely or need plot help, she listens and gives me advice when I need it. Now that I think about it, Nora may be my only friend at home. I really need to get out more.

“Uh…” I stare out the window toward the house and images of the night flash through my memory like photographs. “Actually,” I begin, clearing my throat, “I had sex. And not just boring, old married couple missionary sex either. Really good sex.”

“What? I didn’t hear you. Old age, remember?” She snickers.

I roll my eyes and speak louder. “I had sex last night, and it was amazing.”

“If I could figure out how to use this damn iPhone, I’d tell you to text me a picture of Mr. Wonderful.”

I laugh. “He’s actually the type I stay away from, which is shocking.”

She knows exactly what type I’m talking about—that bad boy, I’ll dump-you-in-a-day type.

“Ahh,” is all she offers. Nora knows intricate details about my past relationships, why they didn’t work out, and how I’ve been unable to have a long-term relationship in years.

“It’s a no-strings attached kind of thing,” I explain, and can just imagine her shaking her head in disdain, giving me that salty look she’s known for before she breaks into a knowing smile.

“I’m sure it would have to be considering you’re due home in three days, but you’re young and beautiful. It’s about time you had a little fun. Just make sure to leave your heart at the door or on the floor, well, unless you were on the floor.” She pauses as I release a chuckle. “Anyway, you know what I mean. Just don’t get hurt, kid. You know I kinda like you like the daughter I never had.”

“Kinda? Well thanks, Nora. It’s just some adult fun. I mean, what could really happen in three days?”

She laughs. “Ask Cinderella. And just to be clear, you’re staying on deadline, right? If your agent found out you weren’t writing and was…”

“Hardy har har,” I say. “Yes, I’m on track. But speaking of, I need to get back to work. Thanks for taking care of Oliver. Kiss him for me.”

She makes a noise. “Yuck. And get cat hair all over me? No, thank you. Keep me updated, and call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Nora. I will.” We hang up, and I immediately get back to work. I write until I’ve finished five more chapters—a new personal record that I couldn’t be prouder of. Over eight thousand words have been added to my manuscript, and if I have a few more days like this, I’ll finally be on schedule. But I’m trying not to jinx myself or creativity. I suck in a deep breath and look out the window and realize it’s almost four in the afternoon. Though I want to keep writing, I force myself to take a break because my stomach won’t stop growling, and I need to eat. Instead of scheduling an Uber and going out, I decide to shower, then sneak over to Ethan’s and raid his fridge. Surprisingly enough, I don’t feel a bit guilty about it.