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An unfamiliar comfort rouses me. The pressure against my cock is next to register through the groggy clutches. That cushioned friction stimulates me to shake off the remaining disorientation. I drape an arm over the warm body tucked tight against mine.
My face uses the delicate slope between Harper’s neck and shoulder as a pillow. I drift my nose along the sensitive flesh. The unmistakable scent of ripe fantasies lingers there, eager to be plucked. A long inhale pulls our mutual desire deep inside to take root. We’re together in this, which is the purest dream come true.
Harper hums in approval while snuggling closer. A sideways glance suggests that she’s still mostly asleep. Her relaxed pose doesn’t stiffen as awareness trickles in. The same goes for her slack features. It’s as if she’s drawn to me even when unconscious. The natural instinct clenches my heart.
I nuzzle against her like the whipped sap she makes me. This woman doesn’t have a damn clue of how much I love her. That gives me pause. After last night, she could probably guess. But soon there won’t be a tiny shred left for doubt.
“You’re toasty,” Harper mumbles. She stretches, effectively grinding my dick into her ass crack. “Oh, and very alert.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m constantly hard for you. Feel free to put me out of my misery.” I grind into her, begging for mercy.
Her moan is a stroke to my insistent arousal. “I can’t believe you’re spooning me.”
“Get used to it, Pitchy. I plan to wake up this way from this morning forward.” My palm snakes under her shirt, trailing upward until I’m cupping a naked breast. “Especially if you don’t wear a bra to bed.”
She shivers against me and burrows into my embrace. “Are you for real?”
“Fuck yes. That was the most peaceful sleep I’ve had since childhood.”
“Ah, you just want to use me for rest and relaxation.”
“Don’t forget wreckage and leisure.” I thrust against her again.
Harper giggles. The throaty tune fondles my balls. “That’s not quite right.”
“I said what I meant to say.”
“Well, someone is very clever before the sun even rises. What time is it?” Drowsiness still clings to her voice.
“Early, but Syd—”
On cue, the door flies open and crashes into the wall. Harper shrieks in alarm, as if an armed robber is breaking in. Her fingers yank the blankets to her chin in a white-knuckle grip. She’s visibly trembling while I don’t so much as flinch from the expected intrusion.
“Rookie,” I chuckle.
Her chest rises and falls with labored breaths. “What—?”
Sydney pops up at the foot of my bed, her eyes like saucers as she processes the very obvious addition to our normal routine. Nobody moves for several seconds. The silence is so dense that a mouse fart would be deafening. Then Glitzy leaps onto the mattress and shatters the momentary freeze.
“O. M. G.” My daughter pauses for several seconds between each letter to add emphasis to her shock. “Daddy, did you marry Harper?”
That sneaky intuition earns a reaction from me. I choke on visions of the blonde beside me in a white gown. The snug rein I’ve kept on my imagination to avoid obsessing over Harper as my bride goes slack, allowing those fantasies to run wild. “No, Boop. We didn’t get married.”
Yet.
“Oh.” Her shoulders slump. “You only had a sleepover?”
“Yep, we’re still wearing our pajamas. Totally innocent.” Harper’s chirpy tune might as well point a guilty finger at our dirty deeds.
Sydney’s expression brightens. “I’m in jammies too! Mine are Gabby’s Dollhouse.”
The theme song pops into my brain like a genius marketing scheme targeting the wrong audience. Or maybe that’s on purpose, since I’m the one with a bank account. Regardless, it’s embarrassing as fuck that I can recall every single episode.
I’m wrenched from the nonsensical deliberation when my reliable meddler twirls like the ballerina princess she is. We applaud her performance, and she rewards us with a cheeky grin. After a flawless launch, she dives into the tiny gap that Harper wedged between us during her startled maneuver.
My girls hug and cuddle as if this is a typical start to our day. Glitzy curls up beside them, refusing to be forgotten. When Syd taps Harper’s nose, my heart soars straight to the ceiling. The significance and ease and completeness of this moment crashes over me. This is how we’re meant to be, at long last. There have been more bumps in the road than I prefer to count, but that riddled path led us here. Together. I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Pressure builds behind my eyes when Sydney releases an expanded sigh. Through my blurry vision, it appears that her collection of troubles and worries just melted away. Harper notices, of course. Her gaze turns glassy as she embraces my daughter. I scrub at the moisture and mutter about dust under my breath.
