Morgan held her until she stopped shaking, then gently withdrew the dildo and undid the harness. Emilia turned beneath her and rested her head under Morgan’s chin, kissing Morgan’s neck as her breathing settled. Morgan touched her hair, then her back, fingertips skimming the smooth skin and feeling the dip of her waist and the curve of her spine. Their legs tangled together. Morgan could feel Emilia’s heartbeat pounding against her own, but something else beat in her chest: a fluttering thing with wings too small for its body, struggling to stay aloft. Morgan closed her eyes as she recognized it for what it was. When Emilia slid her hand between Morgan’s legs, she nearly wept, and her second orgasm shook her down to her marrow. She cried Emilia’s name as she kissed her and filled them both with the sound.

Emilia held her close after the last aftershocks passed, and she lay with her head on Emilia’s breast and breathed in the scent of her skin and their sex. The fluttering thing grew stronger. As Emilia toyed with her hair and the distant sounds of her housemates filtered into the room, she wondered if she’d ever had a choice, or if she had fallen for Emilia Russo the minute she’d met her eyes on the dock.

Then Emilia rolled her over, those same eyes sated, and those full lips curved in a wicked smile.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you, Morgan Donovan?”

•   •   •

Emilia woke in the darkness hours later as the unfamiliar sounds of the house broke into her dreams. Had a dog barked? She stirred, tangled in the sheets, and felt the warmth of Morgan’s body beside her. The pattering of kitty paws in the hallway caught her ears—James, hunting some small rodent or engaged in the kind of midnight romp that made sense only to cats.

She’d ended up on the side of the bed against the wall. Morgan’s sleeping outline was framed by the faint light from the window, and starlight painted her cheek. The sheet had slipped down over her shoulder. Emilia drank in the strength of her, the solidity, the grace of her body and the soft, feminine curl of her lashes.

In the darkness, with the heavy breathing of sleeping dogs rising from the floor and the pale whisper of light from the window, Emilia curled her body around Morgan’s and wrapped her arm around her waist. Morgan moved in her sleep to press closer, and her hand found Emilia’s and tucked it underneath her chin. They exhaled together. She could feel the steady beating of Morgan’s heart through the meeting of their ribs, and she rested her forehead against the smooth blade of her shoulder.