Annie's on her best behavior. It's our first shift alone together, a week since Jess left, and she's going out of her way to prove that I have nothing to worry about, that we can work together without our relationship getting in the way. As much as I appreciate her effort, it's torture, the way she isn't even standing near me.

After last night, I want my hands on her. I always want my hands on her, but we have unfinished business. Last night she lay on top of me, pressing me into the mattress like the world's best weighted blanket, squeezing the air out of my lungs as she touched me until I couldn't breathe, and I ache to touch her too.

On the plus side, I can't remember the last time I was so relaxed at work. It's as though Annie's magic hands worked all of the tension out of my body, releasing my stress. I've used orgasms as a form of stress relief ever since I was a teenager, but it works so much better when someone else is involved. Not that it worked so well during my marriage, seeing as Christian was the cause of most of my stress.

I'm standing behind the counter with a blissful smile on my face, thinking about Annie, when she comes out of the stock room and takes one look at me and laughs.

"Looks like someone got laid last night," she jokes, carrying a pile of online orders that are due to be picked up today.

My hand goes to my smiling face. It's not often that it rests in that position. Ruth has told me on multiple occasions that I suffer from resting anxious face – better than resting bitch face, she says, but I probably put customers on edge when they come in and see me looking stressed. My eyebrows like to furrow and my lips like to pinch and I've probably given myself more wrinkles than I should have at my age.

Annie skirts around me to put the orders away in the cupboard behind the register. When I drop my hand to my side and let it graze her elbow as she passes, she jumps.

"Why are you so on edge?" I ask, turning around to face her. "I know I said we need to be professional but there's no-one around, and I don't think anyone would care to see the graze of a hand and an arm."

"You may have got laid last night," Annie says, speaking into the cupboard as she arranges the parcels in alphabetical order, "but I didn't."

"Ah." I rest my hips against the counter and fold my arms. "I was starting to think you were mad at me for something."

"Not in the slightest."

"You're aroused."

She closes the cupboard door and faces me. Her eyes are bright, her face pink, her hair a golden halo. "Painfully so. So I need you to not touch me because I am this close to locking myself in the staff room."

"What would that achieve?"

She rolls her eyes at me and mirrors my pose. "It would afford me the privacy needed to quite literally go fuck myself."

"Oh." It's my turn to blush. Annie flashes me a wicked grin and heads back to the stock room for more orders. "Don't lock yourself away."

"I know, I know, I won't. Unprofessional to masturbate at work and all that," she says, flapping her hand. "I'll be good."

"If you're going to take matters into your own hands," I say, "I'd at least like to watch."

Annie stops. She turns on her heel. "So that's how it is, huh?" She stands with her hand on her hip, her head cocked to one side, and I'm sure she's about to say something filthy when the door chimes and a couple of customers come in. She hightails it to the stockroom, and I take a deep breath, offering my warmest smile to the coat-clad couple.

When they leave with a bulging bag of books, a few more people come in and soon the store is thrumming with life. We spend the next couple of hours rushed off our feet when half of the town decides to descend on Jacob's Ladder to collect their orders or buy a board game or peruse the latest releases. I stick Annie on the register when my voice gets tired and I need a break from all the people before I get overstimulated.

It's a relief when two o'clock hits and so does a bout of bad weather, and we have the place to ourselves. I blow out a long sigh and scoop my hair into a ponytail with my hands, but I have nothing to tie it up with so I let it go. Annie stretches like a cat and slinks over to me, hopping up onto the counter. In the space of a couple of minutes, it has gone white outside – the snow is flurrying down hard and fast, though I don't think it'll stick – and I can't see a soul on the other side of the window.

"You're coming home with me tonight, right?" I ask, my hands on her knees.

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

My hands inch higher. "Are you regretting taking the job?"

"Not at all," she says, leaning into my gravity. "I do wish we could lock that door and you could fuck me right here, though."

I press my lips together and swallow. I wish that too. She's sitting at the perfect height. I could slide my hands higher, under her dress, pull down her tights, finger her on the counter.

Annie leans closer, close enough that I can feel her breath on my cheek when she says, "Stop picturing it."

"I can't. You've put that image in my head now," I say, hooking my hands under her knees to pull her to the edge of the counter so I can kiss her. "What have you done to me?"

"I think, Ms Jacobs," she says, stretching her arms above her head and draping them around my neck, "I've corrupted you." She kisses the tip of my nose and says, "I've liberated your sexuality. It's been locked away for a while."

It's been locked away ever since she left, when I went from three months of as much sex as possible to eight dry years – I can hardly count the encounter that resulted in Ava seeing as it lasted for less than five minutes, it wasn't any good, and I wasn't remotely close to any kind of satisfaction. Annie, though, she never let me down, brief as our summer was. She cracked open the door to heaven for me at least three times a week.

I glance at the door – still closed, still no sight of anyone – before I press my cheek to Annie's, my hands on her hips, and I say, "I want to make you feel the way you made me feel last night."

She catches me in her legs. "You certainly looked like you felt good last night."

"I felt very fucking good."

"But you said I'm not allowed to have sex when there are kids in the house," she says, "and you may have gotten rid of Otto and Hannah, but Ava will still be there."

"It doesn't count when it's only Ava," I say, inhaling the spot on her neck where she dabbed her perfume this morning. "She's hardly going to rush into the room because she hears a scream."

Annie's hands are cool on my neck. "You're gonna make me scream?" she asks breathily.

"You think I can?"

"I know you can."

Desire pools at the base of my spine, heat flooding my body. I want her, so badly. I have her, but I wish we weren't here, I wish we were in my bed, on my couch, in my kitchen, anywhere but work.

"Working together might prove difficult after all," Annie says as she slides off the counter, standing between it and me, forcing her to look up to meet my eye. "I'm so fucking wet right now." A grin plays on her lips when she stands on her tiptoes. "I'm at risk of dehydration every time we share a shift."

I look down at her pretty face. I'm a couple inches taller than her anyway, and my boots add another inch or two. I like the power that comes with height. I'm five nine already, but I've never shied away from heels. Christian didn't like that. He's five eleven, though he tells people he's six feet tall, and it bothered him when I wore heels that made me taller.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" I say. There are plenty of things I could be doing right now – sorting out the rota for Bobby's week off next month or adding to the order I need to place before five or reading one of my many ARCs – but nothing appeals quite like flirting with my girlfriend.

"So I've been told."

The door chimes. She steps away from me and trips over her own feet, almost face-planting the floor, but I catch her against my shoulder and when I steady her, she's pale.

"You okay?"

"Red alert," she whispers, and once she's on her feet, I turn around to see that the customer is none other than my mom. She comes in brushing snow off of her coat, pulling her gloves off finger by finger.

"It's okay," I say, and I turn on a smile for my mother. "Hey, Mom. What's up?"

Mom's eyebrows raise when she sees Annie next to me. "Hello, darling. I was coming to ask you where I could find Annie, but I guess I answered my own question."

"Hi, Mrs Miller," Annie says, her flirty horniness vanishing in an instant.

"Annie works here," I say, before Mom can make a snippy comment about Annie distracting me while I'm at work. "Jessica left last week, so Annie stepped in."

"Oh," Mom says. "Okay."

That's it. Wow. I guess she really is trying to change.

"Did you want to ask me something?" Annie says.

Mom looks awkward all of a sudden, like she's regretting every thought that brought her here, but she stands her ground and slowly says, "I wanted to apologize. And to ask for your forgiveness for the way I have treated you." She glances at me and back to Annie. "You're part of my daughter's life – an even bigger part than I realized," she says, gesturing to the store, "and I want to stay in her life too, so I think ... I think the two of us need a fresh start."

Part of me wants Annie to have some kind of feisty comeback, to put my mom in her place, but I find myself relieved when she smiles at my mom and says, "Apology accepted. My forgiveness is yours."

"Really?"

Annie shrugs and says, "Like you said, we're both a part of Laurel's life." She puts her arm around my waist and says, "Your daughter matters way too much for me to let a grudge against you get in the way, so yes, let's have a fresh start."

Mom holds out her hand. "Christine Miller. Nice to meet you."

Annie mirrors her and says, "Annabelle Abraham. Likewise." She turns to me with a wink and says, "Sorry, Laurel, did you want us to fight over you?"

Mom chuckles. I shake my head. "This is perfectly fine. Thank you, Mom. Glad you came around."

Mom gives me a sad little smile and says, "I can't really afford to lose you, Laurie-loo."

She hasn't called me that in years. My childhood nickname, one that I grew out of fast when my parents split up and Mom changed. It tugs at my heartstrings, and I don't even know what I'm doing when I step out from behind the counter and pull her into a hug.

"Thank you," I murmur. She hugs me tightly, and nostalgia hits when I breathe in her perfume. The same one Dad used to give her a bottle of every birthday and Christmas. One of those bottles got smashed in the middle of their acrimonious divorce, when Mom threw it at Dad and, of course, he ducked. That bedroom probably still smells like Cristalle by Chanel.

"I do have a couple more questions," Mom says. I brace myself for her to ask why on earth Annie and I think it's a good idea for us to date and work together.

"Go on," I prompt, when she doesn't immediately launch into the questions.

"Well, I was thinking," she says slowly, "I don't have any plans on Friday. I know Otto and Hannah are with their father until Sunday, and I wondered if you might like for me to take Ava for the night?" She looks from me to Annie and back to me. "If you two wanted to have a date night, or just some alone time?"

"Are you serious?" I ask, at the same time that Annie says, "Yes please!"

"Yes, I'm serious. I mean it, Laurel. I want to make amends and I want to prove to you that I support your relationship, and I want to spend some time with my granddaughter."

"That'd be amazing," I say, the words coming out in a rush. "I finish at five on Friday, I could drop her off at yours at six? After she's eaten?" My head swims with possibility. Annie and I can have a proper date. We can go out for a meal and have something to drink and not worry about what time we have to be home.

"I can collect her from daycare," Mom says. "I can feed her, don't worry. I know how to look after a toddler."

Her words aren't accompanied by the usual patronizing tone. I'm thrown. I can't get used to this version of my mom. I really must've given her a wake-up call when I threatened to keep my kids away from her.

"Thank you. That would be great, Mom. I really appreciate it." I can't let my guard down just yet, though. She said she had a couple of questions. I wait for the next one to drop.

"I also don't have any plans for Monday," she says.

"Christmas Day?"

She nods. "I know things have been tense lately, but do you think I could join you and the children?"

I find myself nodding before words form. A week ago, I would've laughed in the face of the idea of my mom spending Christmas with me – she doesn't have a festive spirit and she's never been big on the season – but I can't turn around and say no to that when she's making an effort.

"Okay," I say at last. "Sure, yeah. Come over for Christmas. The kids will love to have you there."

She doesn't comment on my word choice, which I curse the moment the words leave my mouth, and she doesn't come out with stipulations. She just smiles – again, this must be a record – and touches my elbow.

"Thank you, darling. I'll bring Ava home on Saturday."

When she's gone, I turn to Annie and ask, "Did that just happen?"

"She's turned a new leaf," she says. "She must've gotten the message that you and I are in need of a totally kid-free night." She takes my hand and does a twirl and says, "Hey, without Ava we won't have to wait until she's asleep before we get down to business. Fancy a five o'clock fuck on Friday?"

"Is that instead of tonight?" I say. She drops my hand and fixes me with a hard stare.

"Laurel Jacobs, don't even fucking joke about it. Tonight is happening. I am getting off one way or another."

"So romantic."

*

The moment Ava's asleep – early, for once, when I was sure she'd choose tonight to refuse to settle – Annie pounces on me. It's a literal ambush. I leave Ava's room and pull the door shut and Annie launches herself at me like a cat in heat.

"I can't tell you how much I need this," she says, pulling me to my room and trying to tug off her dress at the same time.

"Hey. Slow down. There's no rush."

"I've waited, like, twenty-four entire hours for this. There is absolutely a rush. I think I'm going to burst."

"Have you tried going to the bathroom?"

She holds my face in both of her hands and says, "Laurel, I love you, but this is not the time to be glib. I need you to fuck me right now. Please. It's like a fucking slip 'n' slide down there."

I laugh at the image and I catch her hands to stop herself from frantically undressing. "I'm going to fuck you," I say, "but not so frenetically, okay?"

She finally calms down. I ease her over to the bed and sit her on the edge, pushing her shoulders back so she's lying down, and I slowly take off her tights, exposing her smooth legs and her damp panties. Oh, god. She really has been desperate for this.

"Are you really going to make me do it myself?" she asks. I take it I'm moving too slowly for her.

"No, I'm not," I say. I look down at her tights in my hand. "Actually, how about we make sure you don't?"

"What?"

I kneel either side of her waist, sitting on her thighs, and I join her wrists above her head, using the tights to tie them together. It's a loose knot, more symbolic than anything – I've never done it before and I don't want to cut off blood supply or anything – but the look on her face, one of ravenous lust, spurs me on.

"Oh, god," she says. "You are kinky."

"I just don't want you to touch yourself. It's my turn," I say, pressing a kiss to her open mouth. She groans into the kiss and spreads her legs for me when my fingertips trace a line from her neck to her bellybutton. When I slip my hand between her legs, I gasp and say, "Are you sure you haven't already?"

She's so wet. So ready. So inviting.

It's not enough just to touch. I need to taste. Annie moans louder when she clamps her thighs around my head, holding me in place. She's been working herself up all day. I don't think she'll last long the way she's squirming under me, one hand in my hair, the other on her own breast as I find my rhythm.

It's been a long time since I ate out Annie Abraham. A long time since I touched her with my hands and my tongue. But muscle memory kicks in. I remember what to do. I remember what she likes, and I think I'm right, based on the noises she's making, the way her hips are grinding and bucking.

She lasts longer than I thought she would. It's five whole minutes before she is holding a pillow to her face to muffle her scream, but I don't stop. I know Annie's body. I know to give it another couple minutes, even after she's twitching and shaking.

There we go. Two orgasms in under seven minutes. I should have put a towel down.

Annie is limp when I lean over her, when I press my lips to hers and she tastes herself on my tongue, and all she can say is, "Thank you."

I don't want to stop touching her, but she needs time to recover, so I lie by her side and play with her nipples as she breathes heavily, and I kiss her shoulder, the soft underside of her arm, the warm inner crease of her elbow. I kiss her all over, her breasts and her stomach, her thighs and her knees, her hip and the ticklish dip of her waist, until she regains strength and pulls me to her once she's slipped her hand out of the restraints.

Annie wraps herself around me in a tight hug and rolls me onto my back, so she's on top, and she sits up. Then she stands, the hem of her dress falling to her knees, and she walks to the door.

"See you Friday," she says with a wave.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"See, it's no fun being left high and dry, is it?"

I push myself up onto my elbows. "I can promise you I am not dry." I unbutton my pants and lift my hips to slide them off, underwear too, so she can see for herself. I don't know where the burst of confidence comes from but I roll with it, touching myself as she watches from the doorway like she can't decide whether to stay or go.

Her resolve doesn't last long. It's only a matter of seconds before her dress is on the floor and she is on me.

"You win," she says.

I'm beginning to think I can't lose.

*

don't let bobby find out that laurel maybe has the teeniest tiniest kinky side...