Chapter 76

Steam still clung to their skin as they stumbled out of the bathroom, breathless and giggling, towels barely hanging on. Emma’s hair was dripping, a flush still painted across her cheeks, and Abigail had that dreamy, dazed look that only came after something very satisfying.

Then—ding dong.

They froze.

Emma blinked, glancing at Abigail. “Did you… order food?”

Abigail shook her head, eyes wide. “Nope. Did you?”

“Nope.”

Another ding dong, more impatient this time.

They scrambled across the sleek marble floors of their penthouse, slipping slightly as they hurried to the front door, towels clutched tight and hearts still racing for an entirely different reason now.

When they flung the door open—twenty-something floors above the city—still damp and slightly glowing, they were met with two very familiar faces.

Ashley and Megan—neighbors from the penthouse across the hall, a couple themselves—stood there holding a plate of cookies, clearly not expecting to be greeted by two barely-covered women fresh from a shared shower session.

“Oh,” Megan said first, her eyes sweeping slowly down from Emma’s damp collarbone to the hem of her barely-secured towel. “Well… hi.”

Ashley let out a low whistle and tilted her head, clearly amused. “We definitely picked the right time to visit.”

Emma opened her mouth. Closed it. Then tried again. “We were just… showering.”

Megan raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “Together?” she teased, voice just a little too sultry to be casual.

Abigail gave a lopsided grin and leaned casually against the doorframe like she wasn’t one rogue sneeze away from a towel disaster. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, it’s very obvious,” Ashley chimed in, her gaze flicking between them. “Y’all look like you stepped out of a steamy music video.”

“Or a very expensive ad for body wash,” Megan added, not even trying to hide the way her eyes lingered on Abigail’s still-damp thighs.

Ashley nudged Megan with her elbow but didn’t look away. “We just came to bring these over,” she said, lifting the plate of cookies. “But honestly, we wouldn’t mind hanging out if, you know… you’re into visitors.”

Emma’s brows shot up at the blatant flirtation. She stepped forward, towel shifting just slightly, earning a very deliberate glance from Megan that lingered long enough to make her shiver for a whole new reason. “Wait—no, don’t go,” she said quickly, grinning now despite herself. “Thanks for the cookies.”

Abigail leaned in closer to Emma, whispering just loud enough for all four of them to hear, “We definitely owe them cookies later.”

Ashley chuckled. “Well, we’re across the hall if you feel like returning the favor.”

Megan winked. “Or the towel.”

Emma laughed, heat rising in her cheeks. “Actually… we were planning on cooking dinner later. You two should come by.”

Abigail glanced at her, pleasantly surprised, then nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. We’ll even wear real clothes.”

Ashley grinned. “A dinner date with clothes and dessert? Sounds like a good time.”

Megan tilted her head and smirked. “We’ll bring wine.”

Emma gave a soft laugh and rubbed the back of her neck. “You can still bring it, but I won’t be drinking any.”

Megan raised a brow. “Oh? Why not?”

Emma exchanged a quick glance with Abigail, her expression softening. “Because I’m pregnant.”

Ashley blinked, her smile growing wider. “Wait—seriously?”

Emma nodded, cheeks a little pink. “Just found out not long ago. Still getting used to saying it out loud.”

Megan grinned. “Well damn, congratulations! That’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Abigail said, sliding an arm gently around Emma’s waist. “It really is.”

Ashley’s gaze lingered on Emma, then she gave her a playful grin and said, “Well, you are still sexy. Don’t let that bump fool you.” She winked.

Emma’s mouth dropped open in amused disbelief as she burst into laughter. “Oh my God, Ashley!”

Ashley shrugged innocently, “Hey, I call it like I see it.”

Emma laughed, cheeks burning, as she nudged Abigail. “We’re inviting dangerous people to dinner.”

Ashley winked again. “See you at seven, sexy mama.”

Megan looped her arm through Ashley’s as they started walking back to their place. “We’ll bring wine, and maybe something sweet for dessert.”

“Besides you two?” Ashley tossed over her shoulder.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Emma and Abigail stared at each other for a beat before collapsing into laughter.

Emma rested her head on Abigail’s shoulder. “Dinner, dessert, flirting neighbors, and pregnancy compliments in a towel. That’s a new one.”

Abigail chuckled, tugging her back down the hallway as the city lights shimmered through the penthouse windows. “I told you—we’re multitaskers.”

Emma raised a brow. “Multitaskers with sparkling cider, cookies, and backup flirt defense?”

“Exactly,” Abigail said, grinning. “And maybe a little more dessert after dessert.”

The sun had dipped below the skyline, painting the penthouse windows in hues of deep violet and gold. The dining table, usually an afterthought in their fast-paced lives, was now dressed for the occasion—soft candlelight flickered against glassware, a bottle of sparkling cider stood chilled next to two wine glasses for their guests, and the scent of garlic, herbs, and something buttery lingered warmly in the air.

Emma smoothed her dress down over her small but growing bump, then glanced at Abigail, who was adjusting the playlist on her phone.

“You sure this isn’t too much?” Emma asked, motioning to the mood lighting, the cloth napkins, and the vaguely seductive jazz humming in the background.

Abigail smirked without looking up. “It’s exactly the right amount of too much.”

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. “Great. That’s comforting.”

Abigail walked over and wrapped her arms around her from behind, resting her chin on Emma’s shoulder. “You’re glowing, the food smells amazing, and our neighbors already flirted with us in towels. I think we’ve set the bar exactly where it needs to be.”

Emma tilted her head toward her. “Which is?”

Abigail kissed her cheek. “Steamy penthouse hospitality with a dash of mystery and definitely dessert.”

Ding dong.

Emma jumped slightly. “Showtime.”

They exchanged one last glance—Abigail’s expression daring, Emma’s a blend of excitement and nervousness—before heading to the door. This time, they were fully clothed. But the tension? Still very much dressed in curiosity.

When the door swung open, Ashley and Megan stood there dressed to casually impress. Megan wore a silky forest-green blouse tucked into high-waisted black jeans, her curls perfectly wild. Ashley had on a soft sweater that fell slightly off one shoulder, paired with boots and just enough lip gloss to make you stare a little too long.

“Wow,” Megan said, giving a slow once-over as she stepped inside. “This place looks incredible.”

Ashley let her gaze linger on Emma. “So do you.”

Emma blushed immediately, but her smile was steady. “Thanks. Come in—Abigail made this wild herb-butter pasta thing and I’ve got sparkling cider, plus whatever wine you brought.”

Megan held up a bottle of deep red. “A little Cabernet for the table. Even if one of us can’t indulge.”

Ashley leaned in and whispered teasingly, “More for the rest of us.”

Abigail grinned, stepping aside to let them in. “Make yourselves at home. But fair warning—Emma gets competitive about garlic bread. Like… she will throw elbows.”

Emma gave her a playful glare. “Only if people reach for the last piece without asking.”

They all laughed, the energy immediately easy and warm, but with a subtle undercurrent of curiosity humming beneath the surface. Ashley and Megan exchanged looks more than once, and neither one missed the quiet way Abigail’s hand always found Emma’s back when she passed behind her or the way Emma’s smile softened every time she looked at her.

Dinner was served. The four women gathered around the table, plates full, glasses clinking, conversation flowing like they’d done this a hundred times before.

“Okay,” Megan said between bites, “serious question: who lit these candles? Because I’m feeling very emotionally vulnerable and like I should start sharing secrets.”

“That was me,” Abigail said, sipping her cider like it was a martini. “I like a dramatic dinner.”

Ashley leaned in on her elbows, watching them both. “Well, if this is dramatic… I can’t wait to see what dessert looks like.”

Emma met her gaze across the table, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We do have cookies.”

Ashley’s lips curved. “Somehow I think dessert might be the best part of the night.”

Abigail raised her glass. “To good food, glowing guests, and whatever the night decides to become.”

Four glasses touched, and the air grew a little thicker, the space between playful and something else getting thinner with every sip.

They lingered at the table long after the plates were cleared, each sip of wine or cider drawing them deeper into the golden haze of the evening. The jazz had shifted to something smoother, more sultry—like even the music had picked up on the way the air was starting to hum with something unspoken.

Laughter came easy now. Megan was mid-story about an elevator mishap that somehow ended with a broken heel, a lost phone, and a pizza guy she never saw again. Emma laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes, while Abigail leaned into her side, clearly enjoying the warmth of it all.

When the story ended, Emma pushed her chair back with a grin. “Alright, before anyone explodes from pasta or giggles—dessert time. Cookies are in the kitchen.”

“I’ll help,” Ashley offered smoothly, standing before anyone else could. She looked entirely casual, but her gaze lingered just a second longer on Emma than necessary. “You look like you know where all the good things are hidden.”

Emma blinked, caught just slightly off guard—but not in a bad way. She smiled and motioned for Ashley to follow. “Come on, cookie thief.”

They disappeared into the kitchen, the soft music fading just a bit behind them. Emma opened a cabinet for dessert plates, trying not to notice how close Ashley was standing—or the way she leaned against the counter like she owned the place.

“So,” Ashley said, voice low and playful. “This place is gorgeous. And you, by the way… still glowing.”

Emma turned, trying to play it cool despite the sudden flush to her cheeks. “It’s the pregnancy hormones. And candlelight. Very strategic combination.”

Ashley smirked. “Mm. I think it’s just you.”

Emma laughed softly, pulling the cookie tin from the counter. “You came in here to flirt, didn’t you?”

Ashley stepped closer, her tone unapologetic. “I came in here because I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Emma paused—hands stilling over the tray for just a moment—then looked up to meet Ashley’s eyes.

“I’m not trying to cross a line,” Ashley added quickly, her voice softer now. “You and Abigail are clearly solid. I respect that. But…” She took a beat, letting the words settle. “That doesn’t mean I can’t admire how damn beautiful you are.”

Emma’s heart beat just a little faster. She didn’t move away—but she didn’t move closer either.

“You’re smooth,” she said, a little breathless.

Ashley’s eyes sparkled. “I’m honest.”

For a second, the only sound was the quiet hum of jazz drifting in from the dining room—and maybe the rush of Emma’s pulse in her ears. She glanced toward the door, then back at Ashley.

“Well,” she said, reaching for the plates again, “if you’re going to flirt in my kitchen, the least you can do is carry the cookies.”

Ashley grinned, grabbing the tray with a slight bow. “Yes, ma’am.”

Emma shook her head, smiling as they walked back toward the others. Whatever that moment was… it was warm, thrilling, and left something behind in the air between them.

When they returned to the table, Abigail glanced up and gave Emma a soft smile—the kind that said everything okay?—and Emma smiled back just as gently.

It was.

Once the last cookie was claimed and the wine bottle nearly empty, the mood had shifted from flirty energy to something a little softer, more magnetic—like the night itself didn’t want to end.

Abigail stood and stretched, her fingers lacing above her head. “Okay, I vote we relocate before I fall asleep right here at the table.”

“Yes, please,” Emma said, already standing to clear a few plates. “The couch is calling my name.”

Ashley was already ahead of them, grabbing a throw pillow as she made her way over to the plush sectional in front of the tall windows. “I call corner seat.”

Megan plopped down next to her with a dramatic sigh. “Only because I like the view,” she muttered, glancing out the window before looking directly at Abigail and Emma as they joined them.

Emma curled up on one end, legs tucked under her, while Abigail settled beside her, draping an arm casually over the back of the couch. Megan kicked off her shoes and pulled a blanket over her lap.

For a moment, the silence was peaceful—just the faint hum of music and the distant buzz of the city far below. It was the kind of silence that invited honesty.

Ashley propped her chin on her hand. “Truth or dare?”

“Oh god,” Emma laughed. “Are we doing this?”

“Adult edition,” Megan added. “No handstands or prank calls. Just vibes and vulnerability.”

Emma nodded. “I’m in.”

Ashley looked at Abigail. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Abigail said coolly.

Ashley smirked. “What’s one thing that makes you jealous?”

Abigail paused, considering. “Someone touching Emma without asking. Even if it’s innocent.”

Emma blushed but smiled. “Noted.”

Abigail looked at Emma. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Emma raised a brow. “Dare.”

Abigail’s eyes sparkled. “I dare you to tell us the most unexpected thing about being pregnant so far.”

Emma didn’t hesitate. “Easy,” she said, sitting up a little straighter. “Being horny all the time.”

There was a pause.

Then laughter.

Megan nearly choked on her wine. “Wait—what?”

“I’m serious!” Emma laughed. “It’s like my body’s on fire constantly.”

Ashley blinked, then grinned slowly. “Okay. That’s hot.”

Abigail leaned in and whispered, “It really, really is.”

Emma shrugged, laughing. “I mean, I’m not complaining. Just surprised.”  

Then she leaned forward, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Sometimes… she just touches me, and I’m ready.”

“Just like that?” Megan asked.

Emma nodded. “She can tuck my hair behind my ear, and I’m thinking about dragging her to the bedroom.”

Abigail grinned. “It’s mutual.”

Emma smiled, blushing. “It’s not just hormones. It’s her.”

Megan looked between them, wide-eyed. “That kind of connection… is rare.”

Abigail kissed the top of Emma’s head. “It’s not magic. It’s love.”

Ashley whispered, “That’s… insanely attractive.”

Emma looked around. “I didn’t expect to feel this comfortable sharing all this.”

Abigail turned her head and gently cupped Emma’s chin, her thumb brushing along her jawline. She looked over at Megan, who was already wide-eyed with anticipation, and with a smirk said, “Watch this.”

Abigail turned her head and gently cupped Emma’s chin, her thumb brushing along her jawline. “Come here,” she murmured, voice low and smooth like silk and sin.

Then she leaned in and kissed Emma—deep and slow, with that kind of practiced intimacy that made time blur around the edges. Emma responded instantly, like her body was already waiting. One hand twisted in the front of Abigail’s shirt while the other slipped behind her neck, pulling her closer like nothing else in the world mattered.

The kiss grew deeper, warmer, more possessive, like something sacred that had its own rhythm and gravity.

Then instinct took over.

Emma shifted without a thought, half-climbing into Abigail’s lap. Her knee nudged between Abigail’s thighs, her breath quickened, and the hunger behind the kiss made everything else disappear.

And in the heat of it—in the middle of the movement, her lips brushing against Abigail’s—Emma whispered it so softly it could’ve been a breath:

“I love you.”Abigail smiled and kissed her again.

Emma moaned—loud. The kind of moan that shook the room.

“Oh my God,” Emma gasped, her voice a mix of breathless and mortified as she quickly pulled back into her corner of the couch. “I forgot we weren’t alone!”

Megan looked stunned in the best way. “I… I’m honestly honored to have witnessed that.”

Ashley was halfway through a sip of wine and choked laughing. “You were really about to climb her like a tree, huh?”

Abigail looked smug. “See? Just like that.”

Emma groaned. “I want to disappear.”

Ashley raised her glass. “To spontaneous lap-climbing and love confessions.”

“You’re all fired from friendship,” Emma muttered.

Abigail pulled her close. “You said it first.”

Emma smiled shyly. “It just slipped out.”

“And I loved every syllable,” Abigail whispered.

The four of them sank deeper into the couch cushions, hearts full, energy buzzing, and eyes wide open.

The night?

Still glowing. Still deliciously undone.