I didn't think we'd sleep together so soon. It's been nine days since I saw her in the coffee shop and now she's in my bed, and eight years of longing and regret and sorrow dissipate in a moment when she peels off my tank top and pushes me back, her eyes darkening with lust as she straddles my hips and presses her lips to mine.

"You taste so good," she murmurs as she trails her lips down my jaw, my neck, my chest, my stomach, leaving fireworks in her wake. Everywhere her lips touch, she sparks a flame. "Fuck, Laurel, I've missed this."

"Me too," I say, my hands in her hair as her hands roam my body, her thumbs pulling at the waistband of my leggings and I lift my hips to help her out, my brain empty of anything but lust for her. Until I find myself thinking about the cyclical nature of life. Because even in the heat of the moment, even when I am about to have sex for the first time in so fucking long, my brain will not shut up.

Annie was the last person to give me an orgasm and now, all these years later, it's her again. Her mouth on mine, her hand on my breast as she kisses me hard and touches me softly. She remembers exactly how I like to be touched. Firm hands on my hips, her fingers digging into my thighs, the weight of her on me when she eases my legs apart and pushes into me, her teeth nipping at my neck as I swallow a gasp at the pressure, the fullness, how ready my body is to welcome her back. Her soft hair tickles my chest as her hands work magic, my moaning mouth pressed to the top of her head, my arching body pinned beneath her.

"I love your body," she murmurs, one hand touching my stomach as she fingers me. My body is softer than it was the last time we knew each other like this. I haven't snapped back into shape the way I did before, my skin looser over my belly than it was, but Annie doesn't care, the way she moans as she grips my skin, the last handful of fat I'll never shed.

I like it too. The way she devours me. The way she moves inside me as I hold my breath, overwhelmed by sensations I haven't felt in years. Heat builds at the base of my spine as Annie kisses my sternum and cups my breast and presses me into the mattress, whispering in my ear as I come undone. My thighs seize, trapping her hand between my legs as my lungs threaten to burst and my eyes squeeze so tightly shut that speckled stars dust my vision, and when I'm struggling to catch my breath, Annie steals it from me with a kiss. I cling to her, clutching her to my chest as I remember how to breathe. 

"You're so fucking beautiful," Annie says, her lips moving to my jaw. When I come down from my high and the tables are turned, my head is still spinning as I give her what I know she wants. It's been a long time, but it turns out it's like riding a bike. The minute my hands are on her body, it all comes flooding back. How she likes neck kisses and nipple play and pressure on her lower stomach. I breathe in her gentle perfume when I press my lips to her neck, when I take her nipple between my teeth and bite just hard enough to make her gasp.

"Do you still like that?" I ask, cupping her breast in my palm. She has the most perfect breasts. They were made to be held by my hands, her nipples designed to nudge the crevice of my life line.

"I do," Annie says. I nip at her soft skin, trailing my nails down her side, drawing out every moment that I have my hands on her body, her perfect body. I kiss the birthmark on her left breast, a splodge of a heart like it was drawn on by a child. I touch the freckles on her stomach, counting the constellations on her skin.

It isn't long before she's squirming. Begging. Clawing at me. Desperate to be touched. I take my time, relishing in the feel of her body, the way her soft breast fills my hand just so, the rasp in her voice when she says please. I know exactly what she wants. I feel how ready she is, so warm and inviting when I touch her, when she leans into my touch and I press down on her stomach, beneath the dent of a scar from her healed-over bellybutton piercing.

I lose myself in her. Time ceases to exist. It's as though we're floating in some distant plane of pure pleasure, too absorbed in each other to care how long we're tangled in the lamplight of my bedroom. She cries out when I fill her, when I oblige her every request. Harder and faster and more and please, god, Laurel, more.

The sky is changing color, the snow coming down harder, and it must've been an hour or more of rediscovering each other's bodies. I kiss her breasts. Every mole and freckle. She kisses the inside of my thighs, the crease of my hip, my ten-year-old cesarean scar. I press my thumb into her dimple and she buries her face between my legs, working wonders with her soft tongue until I can hardly remember how to fill my lungs.

We're both naked on top of the covers, breathing hard. Annie lies next to me, her hand on my stomach, her eyes on mine. She traces circles on my skin, leaving scattered stars everywhere she touches, and I can't quite believe we're here again. Annie and me, stifling our pleasure while my baby is asleep down the hall. I forgot how loud Annie can be, her whimpers and her breathy gasps and her cries. The way she had to hold a pillow over her face when I coaxed a second orgasm out of her, the feathers muffling her scream when she spasmed and shook.

"Welcome back," I say, my voice husky. Annie laughs.

"God, I've missed you." She sits up and leans over me to plant a kiss on my lips and I'm too spent to move. Too blissed out to do anything but be kissed by her.

Until I hear a noise I shouldn't be hearing. Not until at least seven, and a squint at the clock by my bed tells me it isn't even four. The slam of a car door and, all too soon, the front door opening. Footsteps downstairs, and then, unmistakeably, my son's voice.

"Mom? Mo-om. Are you alive? Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"Shit!" Annie hisses, leaping off the bed and grabbing a towel. I'm frozen for a beat longer before I'm propelled into action, launching across the room and grabbing my dressing gown from the back of my door. Annie ducks into my ensuite bathroom.

"Mom!" Otto yells. His footsteps thud up the stairs as I tie the dressing gown and smooth my hair and slip out of my bedroom before he comes barging in.

"There you are," he says. "I was starting to think you'd died, jeez, Mom. Why weren't you answering?"

"Otto, honey, what're you doing home? Your dad's supposed to bring you back at seven."

He thunks his backpack down outside his bedroom. "Weather's getting bad," he says. "Dad called and texted and so did I but you didn't answer. He had to bring us back early before the snow got too bad."

Hannah comes up the stairs behind him and relief floods her face when she sees that I'm clearly not dead. She throws herself at me and I wrap my arms around her.

"You scared me, Mom," she says. "Dad said he couldn't reach you."

"Hey, honey. Sorry, I don't know where my cellphone is."

Otto looks at me with the kind of disdain teenagers pull off so well. "What're you even doing?"

"I was taking a nap," I say, praying I'm not too red in the face. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Why are you taking a nap when Annie's here?"

"What? How d'you know Annie's here?"

He jerks his thumb in the direction of the front door. "Her car's outside. Where is she?"

"I–"

There's no way out of this. Otto narrows his eyes and then realization dawns. "Oh," he says. "Ew, Mom."

"What're you ew-ing? There's nothing to ew about," I say, hoping Hannah's still as naive as I was at her age. She lets go of me at long last and takes her things to her room.

"Come on, Mom, I'm fifteen, I'm not stupid. Is that why none of us could get hold of you?" He mimes barfing. "That's so gross."

My entire body is burning hotter than a thousand suns. Oh, god. This is bad. There's no way out of this. I don't know what to say. This is an unprecedented situation. But Otto doesn't expect an answer. He just laughs to himself as he goes to his room and he says, "Honestly, as weird as this is, I'm kind of impressed. No offense, but Annie is way out of your league."

And then he shuts himself into his room, and I slump against my door. When Annie opens it, I stumble backwards. She catches me.

"I don't know whether to be mortified or honored," she says, laughter in her eyes.

"I for one am fucking mortified," I say, covering my beet-red face. The one time I don't have my cellphone glued to my hand while the kids are with their dad. "Otto knows."

"Sorry."

"Not even remotely your fault," I say. Of course Otto saw right through my blustering lie.

"I know, I just ... this is going to be awkward."

I sit on the edge of the bed and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This is so like Christian. If the weather's bad enough that the roads might get closed, it would've made more sense for him to keep the kids for the night. Especially considering he lives a couple blocks from Hannah's school and not much further from Otto's; he'd have no problem taking them in tomorrow morning but now I might not even be able to get them there.

"This is not how I wanted my kids to find out about us," I say with a groan. "I can't hide away in here forever."

I'm halfway through pulling on the first clothes I see when I hear a much older and deeper voice say, "Um, Laurel?"

Annie glances at me. "That doesn't sound like any of your children."

Because it's not. "For fuck's sake. This could not get any worse," I say. Of course Christian wouldn't just dump the kids and run when he hasn't been able to get a hold of me. I tug on a sweater and open my door in time to see my ex-husband coming up the stairs. His eyes land on me and then, behind me, he spots Annie.

"Oh," he says. He has the decency to look embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't..." He doesn't know where to look. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Didn't want to drive off, in case something was wrong. Figured you'd come out but then you didn't, so..."

"Everything's fine."

"Okay. Um. Good. Okay, I'll be going then. Snow's coming down pretty heavy."

"Drive safe," I say. I'm not usually short with him but I'm caught off guard and still reeling from the fact that my son as good as caught me in bed with Annie. Humiliation crawls over my skin like an itch I can't scratch.

Ava starts to cry, because why not add one more person to this equation, and I expect Christian to leave when I head to her room to get her up from her nap, but he follows me.

"Do you want something?" I ask. "Other than to bring the kids back early when you didn't even know if I was in?"

He presses his lips into a flat, awkward line. "Otto has a key and he's old enough to look after Han. Heck, she can pretty much look after herself. I figured it was better to get them home safe even if I couldn't get in touch with you," he says. "And I wanted to check that you hadn't dropped dead in the shower or something."

My irritation deflates. I take Ava out of her crib and she stops her whining instantly when I hold her. Christian smiles down at her, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

"She's cute," he says.

"She is."

"Doesn't look like you at all."

"Gee, thanks, Christian." I roll my eyes and huff a sigh.

"Shit, no, that's not what I meant, Laur. Those were two separate observations." He scratches the back of his neck. "Sorry, by the way. I didn't know you were seeing someone. I didn't know you were..."

I don't know what label it is that he won't name, but I just say, "I am."

"Cool. Yeah. Um. Good for you?" He is getting redder. I want this interaction to be over. We're not usually so awkward with each other – we were married for seven years, after all; we know how to communicate. At least on the most basic level.

"Thank you."

"Okay. I'm gonna get going, before the roads get any worse. See you around, Laur."

He heads back down the stairs and out into the cold and I sit on the chair in Ava's room with her on my lap.

"Thank you for napping, hon," I say. "Though if you hadn't, I could've avoided a very awkward interaction just now."

Annie slips into the room, back in her pink dress. "The coast is clear," she jokes. "If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure Otto would sooner erase any memory of the last fifteen minutes than ever bring it up again."

"That doesn't change the fact that he knows we had s-e-x," I say, whisper spelling the last word. I really need to start being more conscientious of my language now that Ava's picking up words.

"He was going to find out eventually," Annie leans against the dresser and crosses her ankles. "Plus, you have a one-year-old. He knows you're sexually active, Laurel. Unless he thinks a stork dropped Ava on the doorstep. He'll get over it."

"It's me I'm more concerned about," I say. Annie chuckles.

The door creaks open and Hannah appears. "Mom, now that me and Otto are home early and Annie's here, can we do game night tonight?" she asks. She looks to Annie and says, "Are you staying for dinner?"

"I don't know, Han, that's up to your mom. I don't think she was planning to feed the five thousand tonight."

I wasn't. Normally Christian would feed the kids before delivering them home. I haven't made dinner plans and I'm not sure I can cope with sharing a table with both Annie and Otto yet.

"Tonight's a school night, Han," I say. "We'll save game night for Saturday, when we can all stay up a bit later."

Hannah pours. "But Mo-om, Annie's already here, and tomorrow will probably be a snow day!"

"Actually," Annie says, "I just remembered I have to go. I promised to cook for my parents. I'll be back Saturday, though, Han. Looking forward to you losing to me." She holds my gaze for a couple of seconds before she leaves, blowing a kiss over the top of Hannah's head.

There isn't much space for Hannah to climb onto my lap but she does anyway, pulling Ava onto her own lap and resting her head on my shoulder. I put my arms around my girls and hold them close.

"How was your weekend, Banana?"

"Fine. I like seeing Dad," she says, snuggling against me like she's half her age, "but I prefer being here."

I kiss her temple and my fingers catch in a knot when I stroke her hair. The door creaks again, and Otto pokes his head around and says, "Ava finally got her own room, huh? Wonder what prompted that."

"Don't," I warn him. He holds up his hands, running one through his mop of mousy hair. It's disconcerting how much he's starting to look like his dad.

"I'm not saying anything. Did Annie go?"

"Yeah."

"She's coming back on Saturday," Hannah pipes up. "For game night."

My son gives me a look. "That'll be interesting."

*

this is a different spice style to my other books (not really "spicy" tbh) which a friend described as "wholesome spice" and I love that - not quite closed door, but not particularly graphic either!