Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,47

to her on this day was another building block. The house was quiet with Lia nowhere to be seen on the main floor. Tapping my thumb against my thigh, I thought of where she might have gone. It was a bit of a walk to any shops or restaurants, but doable. My phone showed no texts from her, and I was a bit later coming home than I'd anticipated.

From upstairs, I heard a creak, and I smiled. It came from my bed. I knew that sound. It was the sound my bedframe made any time I shifted. I took the stairs quietly, avoiding the spots that made noise. Approaching my room, I decided not to worry so much about what step might come next, what step should come next. I'd simply enjoy whatever place we found ourselves in, whatever place Lia wanted us in.

The rules would be made to our specifications, and I found that I quite liked that. No one could tell us how we should be doing this, whatever this thing was between her and I. This was the one part of my life that felt smooth, felt instinctual in an entirely different way than I was used to.

And lying in the middle of my bed, curled on her side underneath the quilt that Rebecca insisted on putting on my bed, I could understand why. Everything inside me felt drawn to Lia, tugged toward her like she'd yanked her fist inside my chest and refused to let go. No part of me could define why it made so much sense to me to climb quietly onto the bed next to her, so I didn't even try. That morning, she'd been open to the easy affection between us, and for a moment, I'd thought she'd curl her clever fingers around my trousers like she had that first night and pull me closer. It was in her eyes to do exactly that, but she'd resisted.

She was the stronger of the two of us, that much was clear. Because seeing her laid out on my bed like that, nothing inside me wanted to act along the same lines. The sleek line of her back, the silky fall of her hair down her back, and the perfectly round curve of her arse was the perfect gift to come home to.

She shifted when I carefully curled myself around her, sliding my arm around her waist and intertwining my fingers over top of hers. Of all the places she could have napped, she chose my bed, and as I held my breath to see if that shifting meant she was waking up, I knew she'd done so for a reason.

The hand not laying on hers brushed against something soft, and I lifted my head, eyes widening when I pulled the tiny sheep—made by my mum—from underneath the pillow.

"What the bloody hell? Where did you come from?" I murmured. His pink nose wasn't as bright as it used to be. The gray wool of his body faded with age. I didn't even know why I still had it because almost every single remnant of my childhood was tucked away—out of sight, out of mind.

Lia's fingers tightened around mine when I spoke, and her breathing shifted from slow and steady to shallow, rapid, excited.

The sheep was tossed off the bed, and I heard her chuckle under her breath.

"Poor little sheep," she whispered.

"He'll fucking survive." I buried my nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. Her back curved sinuously, and that arse pushed back against me.

I used my other hand to push her hair out of the way, dropping kisses against her neck when I heard her whisper my name. Pausing, I made sure it wasn't an entreaty to stop, and that was when she turned, eyes drowsy with sleep and cheeks flushed with desire. Immediately, she cupped my face, sliding her hands up into my hair.

"I was dreaming about this," she murmured, and the husky tone of her voice had me shifting my hips restlessly.

"Were you now?"

"Mm-hmm." She licked her lips. "You woke me up like this. Differently, but like this."

I tilted her chin up with my thumb and ducked my head down so I could nibble along the line of her neck. Her fingernails dug into my scalp.

"Different how, love?" I spoke into her skin.

"W-with your hands." She arched her back again when the edge of my teeth found her jaw. "You'd taken off my pants without waking me."

"Trousers," I corrected with a grin. Her