In the months leading up to the dissolution of her long term relationship, Taylor had gotten accustomed to sleeping alone. Joe took residence in one of the guest rooms (she got the distinct impression he would've stayed on another planet, given the choice) and looking back, she hated how she'd clung so tightly onto hope. It was glaringly obvious that it was a precursor to the end and she wanted to kick herself for not wanting to accept it as such.
It wasn't so bad, she thought. She had the cats, well, Dibbles and Benjamin, at any rate. Meredith was fickle, choosing when she would tolerate cuddling and when she wanted nothing to do with you, but she learned to adapt. And truthfully, it was nice to sleep smack in the middle of the California king, not have to snatch blankets away or share pillows. She could eat in bed (something Joe had abhored) and drink her wine and endlessly binge Grey's and there was no one there to judge her for it.
Sure, it was a little lonely, especially given that for years, she'd had somebody occupying the space next to her, but like many of the changes in life's seasons, she accepted it for what it was.
That being said, she might've thought it would be awkward finding herself being held by someone again, waking up next to someone after nearly a year of being solo.
It wasn't, though...it felt natural, as far as those kinds of things went. Maybe it was cliche, but being in his arms was a safety net. Could've been his athletisim, could've just been the person he was. Whatever the case, she isn't complaining.
"Morning."
His words are still groggy and he places a kiss on her bare shoulder, his facial hair tickling the skin.
"Good morning."
He's warm, and sleepily she presses into him, rewarded with another kiss, this time to a particularly sensitive part of her neck, right along the vein and she sucks in a sharp breath, making him chuckle.
"You start that, we'll get nothing done today," she demures. "Not that there's anything wrong with that..."
"I was gonna say ---"
She likes the way he constantly wants her, in a way that makes her feel desirable. Her self confidence had taken a complete nose dive for awhile. It wasn't as though she needed another person to convince herself of her own worth; that wasn't it at all. It's just nice to be around someone whose libido matches yours, who can't keep their hands off of you. He isn't shy about it, either...he's constantly telling her how gorgeous she is, how unbelievably sexy. It's even more of a turn on because she knows he's a hundred percent sincere. His actions definitely match his words.
"You smell good," he mumbles into her clavicle. "Taste good, too."
He drags his tongue across the surface of her skin and she turns in his arms, meeting his mouth halfway.
The man is insatiable and she loves it, loves the way he takes the time to worship her body. In the course of months, he'd come to know exactly what she liked, memorized every inch of her, concentrated on making her feel good, which is a lot more than she can say for most men.
Afterwards, when she's in his embrace once more, sweaty and satiated, it occurs to her that Selena was wrong.
Sex doesn't need to complicate anything, she tells herself. It can just be exactly what it is.
"As much I hate to even put this out there," Travis speaks up, "maybe we should get up eventually?"
She can't tell how serious he is because he's smoothing the surface of his hands over her hipbone as he talks, not exactly the move of someone who believes getting out of bed is a good idea.
