Chapter 88

Rowan wakes first.

The house is still wrapped in that quiet, early-morning calm—the kind that feels earned. Pale sunlight slips through the curtains in thin ribbons, brushing softly across the living room. Naomi is still asleep on the couch, her face relaxed, lips parted slightly, one hand curled loosely against the pillow. Celeste’s steady breathing rises and falls nearby, grounding the room in warmth.

Rowan lingers for a moment, just watching.

Then she slips away.

The walk-in shower in Naomi’s room feels like a private sanctuary—glass walls, smooth stone tile, a rainfall head mounted high above. Rowan steps inside and turns the water on hot, steam beginning to bloom almost instantly. She leans her hands against the cool tile as the water pours over her shoulders, down her back, loosening muscles she didn’t realize were still holding onto yesterday.

Her breath slows.

Her thoughts soften.

She’s lost in the sensation when she hears it—bare feet against tile. A quiet sound behind her. The faint shift of air as someone enters the space.

Before she can turn, the glass door slides closed.

Warm hands settle at her waist.

Rowan exhales, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Mind if I join you?” Naomi asks softly, her voice still thick with sleep, low and unguarded.

Rowan turns beneath the spray.

Naomi stands there barefoot, hair slightly damp like she splashed water on her face before coming in. The steam curls around her skin, blurring the edges of her just enough to make the moment feel unreal. Her eyes are warm, affectionate, filled with that quiet intensity Rowan is starting to recognize.

“Not at all,” Rowan replies gently.

Naomi steps in, the water instantly coating her shoulders, sliding down her arms. She lets out a small sound as the heat hits her, then laughs under her breath. “God, that feels good.”

She moves closer—not rushing, not crowding—until the space between them disappears. The shower is large, but suddenly it feels intimate, like the world narrowed down to tile and steam and shared breath.

Naomi doesn’t say anything else.

She just leans in.

It’s slow—unhurried—like she’s giving Rowan time to pull away if she wants to. Her hand slides from Rowan’s waist up along her side, warm and sure, fingertips tracing a familiar question.

Rowan doesn’t hesitate. Their lips touch softly at first, a quiet kiss that feels more like a confirmation than a spark—warm, grounding, intentional.

Naomi exhales into it, a faint sound of relief, and deepens the kiss just a little. Not rushed. Not demanding. Just present. Her thumb brushes along Rowan’s jaw, steadying her there like she wants Rowan to feel exactly how real this is.

Rowan’s hands come up instinctively, resting at Naomi’s hips, holding her in place as if the moment might slip away if she doesn’t. She kisses Naomi back with the same care—slow, lingering, full of morning softness and last night’s closeness still humming beneath the surface.

When they finally pull back, it’s only by inches.

Naomi rests her forehead against Rowan’s, eyes closed, smiling faintly. “Good morning,” she murmurs.

Rowan lets out a quiet laugh, breath warm against Naomi’s lips. “Yeah,” she says softly. “It really is.”

Naomi’s hands roam over Rowan’s curves, fingers dancing along the edges of her waist, drifting lower to grip the swell of her hips. 

She presses Rowan back against the cool tile, the water sluicing over them both as she claims her mouth again. Rowan’s fingers dig into Naomi’s hips, holding on tight as if to anchor herself amidst the sudden storm of desire.

Naomi’s hands skim up Rowan’s sides, ghosting along the span of her ribs before finding the underside of her breasts. She squeezes gently, thumbs brushing over the pebbled nipples, coaxing them into harder peaks. The touch sends jolts of pleasure straight to Rowan’s core.

With a low moan, Rowan arches into Naomi’s touch.

Naomi seems to hear the desperation beneath and responds by trailing kisses down Rowan’s throat, nipping at the tender skin before dipping lower. Her lips find the hollow of Rowan’s collarbone, then continue their descent, leaving a wet trail in their wake.

Rowan’s breath hitches as Naomi’s mouth reaches the valley between her breasts. The heat of her lips makes Rowan’s skin ache, her nipples throbbing in time with the pounding of her heart.

Naomi doesn’t disappoint, taking one straining peak into her mouth and suckling firmly. Rowan’s back bows, a low cry slipping past her lips as pleasure spikes through her. Naomi’s tongue teases and flicks, drawing more sounds from Rowan as she loses herself to the sensation.

Rowans hands fisting in the woman’s hair. “Naomi,” she breathes, the name a prayer on her lips.

But it’s when Naomi’s mouth descends further, between Rowan’s thighs, that she reaches the edge of ecstasy. The first touch of Naomi’s tongue against her clit makes Rowan’s knees buckle, her grip on Naomi’s hair tightening like a vice.

Naomi licks and sucks at Rowan’s sensitive flesh, each stroke more insistent than the last. Rowan’s hips jerk, grinding against Naomi’s face as she chases the crest of her orgasm. 

“Oh, fuck,” Rowan panted, her climax building. “Naomi, just…right there, please. I’m so close.”

The pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter, until finally, with a cry that’s half pleasure, half release, Rowan shatters.

Her orgasm rips through her, waves of intense bliss crashing over her in relentless succession. She’s dimly aware of Naomi’s continued ministrations, the woman’s mouth and tongue still working to draw out every last tremor.

As the aftershocks slowly subside, Rowan’s legs stiffen, holding her upright once more. She drags in ragged breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and still the urgent throb between her thighs.

Naomi looks up at her then, eyes glazed with desire, lips kiss-swollen and glistening with Rowan’s moisture. “You’re incredible,” she whispers, her voice husky with want.

Rowan manages a weak smile, reaching down to cup Naomi’s cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she replies, her voice still trembling with the aftermath of her climax.

But even as she speaks, Rowan can feel the heat of desire still simmering within her, a fire that Naomi’s touch could easily reignite. For now, though, she’s content to simply bask in the aftermath of their shared intimacy, the soft patter of the water and Naomi’s warm breath against her skin lulling her into a state of languid satiation.