She let out a satisfied sigh as she sank into the coziness of the plush mattress, he got into bed and pulled the fleece blanket to cover them. "Goodnight darling," he said and kissed her.

It had been the sweetest kiss. Tentative at first, he needed to make sure that was what she wanted. He'd stopped briefly, opening his eyes and searching hers. Michonne's gaze gave him the confidence to go on.

And then oh, what a kiss!

It was pure-tasting, slow, wet, and hot. The kind of toe-curling kiss that can take you from zero to one hundred in three seconds flat. They had touched, but over their clothes only and within respectable boundaries.

For the first time in years, Michonne had fallen asleep with a man without there having been sex, and yet it felt like a bigger, more serious step than it had ever been any of those times she ended up naked in a tangle of sheets with men she had intentionally fallen into bed with. On the list of things Michonne never thought would happen in her lifetime, waking up as the little spoon to Rick's big spoon was right up there with finding proof of alien life and Sasquatch. Yet that's where she'd woken up that morning. She smiled thinking back to the night before.

For maybe about five seconds she didn't move, didn't blink, didn't breathe. What was the protocol for the morning after you made out with the boy next door, twenty-five years after you dreamed about it? Michonne didn't know. Rick wasn't a boy, and she was not a girl anymore. The awkwardness wasn't cute when you're forty-something.

Michonne felt as if she was one with the boat now, swaying and bobbing dizzily over the agitated sea. She had been so comfortable before in a world where she and Rick were friends, distant friends most of the time. She had no idea how to navigate this new world where she knew what his kiss was like.

Rick stirred behind her just as she started contemplating what would the holidays be like between them now...? cutting short her inner panicking. She felt him move, his chest at her back expanded on a breath – his left arm, which had been resting over her waist like a dead weight, now moved. She expected him to fully roll away from her but he didn't. He seemed to inch closer just a little bit, his nose brushing against her neck while his hand found her hip and kneaded gently.

"Morning, Chonne" he mumbled sleepily.

Her heart melted a little bit. He sounded adorable first thing in the morning. Damn. She'd have to rip the Band-Aid out.

"Good morning Rick!" she said as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face him.

Ugh, no that hadn't helped at all. He smiled at her with that sleepy face. He had half-lidded eyes still misty with sleep. His overgrown hair was now an even fluffier mess on his forehead that made her want to run her fingers through it like she'd done last night. The scruff on his face was just a little bit thicker – she remembered how it'd burned deliciously against her skin and sighed involuntarily.

Damn, holidays would never be the same again. Ugh.

"You alright?" he asked, blinking sleep from his eyes. Rick could not get enough of her, she looked into him as if she knew his desires. And her body, he almost couldn't sleep, his imagination ran wild, there was no focus, only desire and the pain of yearning. The body chemistry is off the charts; she is somehow both lit TNT and a fine bottle of wine.

Michonne nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. She couldn't help but devour him with her eyes. He looked edible. She was sure she looked, unlike the actresses' slash supermodels he woke up next to over the years. Dwarfed inside his sweater, hair in need of some grooming, not a stitch of leftover makeup on her face meaning her eyes were puffy and lips were chapped. Not sexy at all. But like a forty-two-year-old federal agent facing forced early retirement and spinsterhood.

Michonne had been so mortified contemplating Rick's mortification at her appearance, she was caught by surprise when he bopped the tip of her nose with his finger. She blinked her eyes back to his face, arching her eyebrows at his little frown.

"What?" she breathed like a kid caught off guard by a teacher singling them out for a question in school.

"You looked terrified there for a second," he frowned at her, eyes traveling over her face, looking for signs. "You're okay," he assured her. He would make sure of it.

Michonne laughed at herself. Internally she felt bad for making him worry... She sighed, shaking her head.

"Sorry...I- I've just never done this with you, I'm a little lost."

"Done… what with me?" he arched his eyebrows curiously, a mischievous smile tugged at his lips. The thought of what could have been playing in his mind so vividly.

"Had an awkward morning after?" she shrugged and rolled over on her side so their bodies aligned.

Michonne was always at her best when she was fearlessly honest. She wasn't fearless where Rick was concerned. But God, did she feel better just being honest about it.

"Oh yeah?" He smiled more now. Sleep still prevailed, but he was clearly amused. "I don't know, I kind of like it." He amended, eyes dropping to her mouth deliberately, hoping, praying she liked it too.

"You do?" Michonne's eyebrows went higher.

Rick grasped her chin between his fingers and tilted her mouth towards his before giving her a good morning kiss. With the kiss came the smooth touch of her body, poised, just the right blend of relaxation and tension. She didn't have much time to worry about her morning breath – it was brief and soon he was pulling away slightly to brush the tip of his nose with hers while he closed his eyes and sighed, a satisfied smile on that sexy mouth of his.

Mission accomplished, beautiful Michonne is relaxed in his arms, "Morning after what exactly, Miss Taylor?" he teased; his sleepy eyes still closed.

Michonne bit her lip hard to keep from reacting too noisily, but she had to shove her nose into the crook of his neck and then they were laughing. Rick's chest was shaking beneath her, his hands rubbing up and down her back while he kept her close. He loved making her laugh, that was her medicine and his.

"I guess it could have been more awkward…" she joked, enjoying too much that he was holding her now.

"Mm-hmm. I'd like more awkward…" Rick agreed. "We could go for full-blown weird…" he laughed into her hair.

Michonne didn't know if she wanted to melt into a delighted puddle because Rick insinuated, he wanted to have sex with her or if she wanted to die of embarrassment because they were talking about this in the first place. She remained in the safety of the crook of his neck, enjoying his hands rubbing up and down her back lazily, blunt nails scratching a delicious path over her sensitive skin. Even underneath the thick fabric of his clothes, she could feel his touch as though she was naked.

Nestled into him as she was, she had only to wind her arms around him and breathe him in. Michonne closed her eyes, sighing softly, thinking no morning had ever felt so perfect. She felt Rick's fingers massaging her hair and her scalp, and she wanted to purr. She might have. She couldn't tell. Because she was still dizzy from every second she spent in his arms, and then suddenly he was tugging her hair back and angling her mouth for another sensual kiss. She was losing herself in it when they heard footsteps on the deck above. Michonne pulled away, looking up at the skylight just as a shadow moved past it.

"What the…?"

Rick sighed, "That'll be Hershel…" he started rolling away from her, "...it's his usual time...I think he left his Miter- saw too."

"Oh…" Michonne quickly scuttled away from the skylight, the thought he could have seen them a moment ago caused her to fret for a whole new reason.

Famous guy. She was making out with a famous guy and someone might have seen it, Oh Hell!

"It's okay, stay here, I'll get rid of him," Rick said calmly before turning around and leaving the room.

Just staying there didn't seem like a good idea. Michonne jumped to her feet and scrambled to find her actual clothes. It would be her third day in them, but hell, she couldn't be sexy wearing his huge sweatpants and sweater, could she? Dammit, she couldn't be sexy in her own clothes either! She checked herself in the mirror in the tiny bathroom and groaned. Her hair was a mess, although her clothes had dried, they were wrinkled and gross.

Michonne was about as vain as any girl – when it suited her. Most of the time, she was a practical one. She spent her days in dark pantsuits, sports bras, cotton panties, and flat shoes. Makeup and sexy lingerie were for special occasions only – for when she had dates or nights out with her girlfriends, who acted personally offended if she turned up in anything less than a little black dress and designer stilettos.

She hadn't packed anything like that for this short trip. She hadn't anticipated needing to look good for a guy. Especially not this guy. Now in her three-day worn jeans and Georgia State -shirt, she looked more ready to slouch on the couch and binge-watch episodes of Dexter than she did for cozying up to Mr. Sexiest Man Alive – Ugh. What had she been thinking?

Was it too late to fake amnesia?

Michonne braced herself against the sink and rubbed at her forehead, taking a deep breath. She couldn't let her head go that way. Michonne had never suffered from low self-esteem. She liked how she looked and had never needed anyone else's validation where appearance was concerned. No, she wasn't anxious about not reaching Rick's standards. Ultimately it wasn't about why her, it was just about why now? What the hell had flipped twenty-five years later?

Look at that vein in your forehead woman...

No, no, no. Thinking, way too hard. She yanked the door open and left the bathroom.

She walked out onto the deck and was greeted with another cloudy morning – partly, cloudy. The clouds were still white with hardly a trace of grey above was an almost unbroken layer of white and light grey, brilliant where the sunshine broke through and dark where it did not.

Rick was waving, at Hershel leaving, so Michonne stood back, fighting not to rub frantically at her forehead. When he turned to see her, he first looked surprised that she'd changed, then he smiled, approaching with languid steps and a glint in his eyes.

"Hey, darling...you going somewhere?" he asked, invading her space and forcing her to back up against the rail.

"Uhm..." she babbled as the handsome man was suddenly right there, all up in her business, hands grabbing onto the rails and caging her in. "uhm…well…"

He grinned at her, in that unbearably sexy way of his, that made her think he knew exactly how nervous he made the women around him. She hated that he was using it against her now.

She pouted and it made him laugh.

"Don't go…" he whispered, his smile turning serious, his eyes seeking hers earnestly. She had no idea the power she has over him.

"Wha…?" Michonne blinked, getting whiplash from playful-confident Rick to pleading-smoldering Rick.

Rick smiled again, nuzzling her temple and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Please stay here, I don't want you to leave me." In her eyes, he sees home. In her soul, there is the kind of passion that brings solace to his fire, enough to bring out the earthen nature and claim his heart.

Michonne's hands reached for his shoulders mechanically while her mouth gaped a little. She closed her eyes when he squeezed her against his chest and sighed. The man didn't play fair.

"Okay…" she said softly against his chest, winding her arms around his waist and squeezing back.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting. Maybe she'd spent too many years not expecting anything at all. But his request made her knees buckle and complying just came as easy as breathing. She didn't know what this was, but damn, it felt like she didn't want to give it up either.