“I was going to suggest we put them in the dryer.”
“We don’t have a dryer.”
“The radiator, then.”
“The radiator is also perfectly valid.” Nellie was already peeling her cable-knit sweater off over her head with one hand, still towing Sawyer by the other. “We can do this and then the radiator.”
Sawyer chuckled and let herself be towed.
The bathroom in the cottage was small and old-fashioned, its fixtures original to the nineteen-sixties and its mirror slightly foxed at the corners. Sawyer reached into the shower and turned the dial to hot while Nellie shed the soaked sweatpants and flung them over the towel rail.
“How was the windfarm?” she asked, reaching for the hem of Sawyer’s fleece.
“Interesting.” Sawyer lifted her arms cooperatively. “The offshore potential is significant. The project director was less useful than his slides, but his slides were good.”
“Did you like him?”
“He talked for four minutes about clouds.”
Nellie’s face appeared from beneath the fleece’s neck, already arranging itself into the expression that meant she found this funnier than she intended to show. “What kind of clouds?”
“Lenticular?”
“Oh, those are gorgeous.” She caught Sawyer’s look and bit down hard on her bottom lip. “Which was obviously not the point.”
“The point was the tidal current modeling, which I had to ask about specifically because he was still going on about the clouds.”
“But the numbers are good?”
“The numbers,” Sawyer confirmed, working the buttons of her own shirt, “are promising.”
Steam had started filling the small room, and Nellie stepped under the spray. “Come on,” she said. “You can debrief me in here.”
The shower was narrow by the standards of any bathroom Sawyer had inhabited in the last twenty years, and the hot water was the aggressive, slightly astonishing temperature of a boiler that had only two settings: cold and infernal. The contrast with the coastal chill outside hit immediately; Sawyer felt her shoulders drop the full inch they’d been maintaining since approximately the second wind gust of the morning.
Groaning with relief, Nellie pressed the full length of her body into Sawyer’s, and the gasp that came out of her was not entirely voluntary.
“Still cold,” Sawyer pointed out.
“Getting warmer.” Nellie tilted her head back to let the water hit her face and closed her eyes. Sawyer took the opportunity to kiss her neck, running her hands over her hips until she could sink her fingertips into Nellie’s delicious asscheeks.
When Nellie opened her eyes again, the look she returned was direct and very clear about what it wanted, the same look she’d been giving Sawyer in one form or another for three years without ever appearing to tire of it.
Sawyer kissed her, slowly this time, with no wind and no cold water to interrupt it.
Nellie’s hands found her waist. She made a low, contented sound against Sawyer’s mouth that said “welcome home” and “I want you” all at the same time.
The shower was narrow enough that maneuvering was less an easy decision than a careful negotiation. Sawyer found herself pressed against the tile, warm now, the steam close and dense around them, and Nellie’s mouth had moved to her jaw, her throat, the top of her shoulder. Already panting in the thick air,Sawyer was thoroughly occupied with getting her hand between Nellie’s thighs, which was proving geometrically complicated.
“Wait a sec.” Nellie giggled and shifted her knee so that Sawyer could gain the access she was desperately seeking.
Finally, she stroked her fingertips over Nellie’s clit, and she sucked a sharp hiss through her teeth when Sawyer immediately plunged two fingers into her wet heat.
“Good?” Sawyer asked, reflexively.
“Do I sound bad?” Nellie demanded, teeth grazing Sawyer’s neck.
Sawyer thrusted her fingers slowly, in and out, and Nellie bit down softly on her shoulder, dragging her hand between Sawyer’s thighs in return. It was not the most romantic or teasing moment they’d shared together over the years. This was pure instinct, the human desire to share body heat while also making the other come.
