During their seventh week of couple's therapy, Bette and Tina think about what first drew them to one another.

At the end of their next couple's therapy session, Dr. Coleman gave Bette and Tina a new homework assignment. "This week," she began, "I want you two to reflect on what first attracted you to each other."

Bette and Tina nodded.

"Use this as a chance to think critically about what initially drew you to your partner—and whether those features continue to show up and feel meaningful to you—and then share that information with one another."

The next day, it was dark by the time Tina got home from work. Locking the front door behind her, she set down her bag on the entryway table, shrugging off her coat to hang it up in the front closet. Following the sound of quiet music into the kitchen, her lip quirked up at the sight of Bette standing by the stove making dinner.

Bette turned at the sound of boots clacking against the hardwood. "Hey," she greeted, her voice adoring.

Tina leaned in to press a quick kiss to full lips. "Hi." She crossed over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water and then came to stand beside Bette, palm ghosting over the small of her back. "What are you making? It smells amazing."

"It's a crispy Persian rice dish. I think you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will," Tina smiled. "Thanks for making dinner." She tilted her head back to kiss a bronze cheek and then got to work on setting the table and placing a few used dishes into the dishwasher.

Sitting down to eat, Bette focused her attention on Tina. "How was work?"

Tina took a bite of rice. "It was good. We weren't sure how everything would go with these new executives but, for the most part, it's been smooth sailing."

Bette nodded, listening attentively.

"It's going to be a strong season," Tina continued. "Great acting, great drama, great tension. The writer for the most recent episode is new to the team. I think she did a good job."

They were quiet for a minute, just looking at each other, eyes soft.

"How was your day?" Tina asked. "Are you still meeting with Jon Feldman for lunch tomorrow to talk about that curatorial position?"

Bette made a face. "We're having breakfast now. He's meeting with the mayor's office for lunch, so he had to shuffle things around a little. His assistant just told me."

Tina shone at her. "He's going to love you. He's going to offer you the job on the spot."

"I hope so," Bette admitted. "I mean, I know being an art dealer is already a big time commitment, but if I can work for him on a part-time or contract basis, I think it could be nice—just for something to do in-person and to get more involved in the culture here."

"Why?" Tina pressed, tone teasing. "Do you plan to stick around Toronto or something?"

Bette smiled back. "I'll be here for as long as you're here, so I might as well meet a few people."

"Yeah," Tina twinkled. "Might as well."

After dinner, Bette and Tina settled onto the couch, pens and journals in hand.

"I can't tell whether these assignments are getting easier or if we're just getting better at talking to each other," Bette mused.

Tina looked up. "Maybe both? Identifying why I was initially attracted to you is definitely easier than addressing our regrets and fears. But also . . . I do think it has become easier to communicate. I used to feel the inclination to just, like . . . flee the situation at the first sign of conflict. I'm not afraid of staying and talking about it now." She lifted her hand to tuck Bette's hair behind her shoulder. "How about you?"

"I think we've gotten better at it, too," Bette opined. "I feel like both of us have a different perspective than we did before where we just don't want to waste any more time." She paused, then continued, "Which is another reason why I only want to work for Feldman on a very limited basis. I'm not giving up any time I could be spending with you."

Tina bit her lip. "Have I mentioned how hot it is when you talk about prioritizing me?"

"Yes," Bette chuckled, wrapping her left arm around Tina's back, "you have."

Tina smiled. "I'm glad."

"And that's part of the reason why I keep reminding you," Bette continued.

Tina exhaled a theatrical dreamy sigh, snuggling in closer.

Bette shut her eyes, relishing the way Tina's head fit perfectly in the crook of her neck.

Tina traced the cover of her journal. "Should we do this?"

Bette nodded, and Tina felt the movement against her hair. "Sure."

They spent the next ten minutes in comfortable silence, pens scratching against paper as they thought back to their homework assignment: to reflect on what first attracted you to each other.

When she finished her list, Tina closed her journal and waited, fingertips drawing patterns on Bette's inner arm as the brunette continued writing.

After another minute, Bette looked up. "Okay. I'm ready. You want to share first?"

"Yeah." Tina leaned back, making a little space between them so that she could meet dark eyes. "So, I was thinking about that very first night—the Cathy Opie show. And you were gorgeous, obviously—tall, and elegant, and well-dressed. You had this confidence that commanded the room, and I found that incredibly seductive. But, also, I think it was because you had this strange intensity I wasn't used to. I was drawn to it immediately."

Bette's lips curled up.

"I mean, just the way you looked at me," Tina continued. "Like I was someone really worth looking at."

"You were," Bette insisted. "Still are."

"I know," Tina accepted. "I don't think I knew that when I was twenty-five, though. Not until you." She paused, thinking. "It was also that you were always so unapologetically yourself. I remember thinking that you were fearless."

"And now you know that's just a façade and I'm scared all the time," Bette joked.

Tina shook her head, not letting Bette brush off the compliment. "I still think you're braver than anyone I know."

Bette reached for her hand, their fingers immediately entwining.

Tina squeezed Bette's hand in hers, eyes full of love.

Then: "For me," Bette began, "well, initially, I was attracted to you because you're beautiful. But it was your innocence, too. Or maybe not 'innocence,'" she backtracked, "but your belief in the good. As soon as we started dating, I noticed how—in spite of everything—you always saw the best in everyone and in every situation."

Tina felt her cheeks flush.

"It was so refreshing—especially in LA, where everyone's so jaded and always seems to have ulterior motives." Bette shrugged, feeling a little shy. "I think I became more hopeful after I met you."

Tina's smile widened. "This is my favorite homework assignment. It's just compliments."

Bette chuckled. "It's a good one. I also liked the 'no sex' one."

"No, you didn't," Tina laughed. "You just liked having sex anyway."

Bette pouted out her lower lip in surrender, unable to argue with that.

Endeared by her expression, Tina pressed a quick kiss to that pouty bottom lip. "I did, too."

Shuffling downstairs the following morning, Tina spotted Bette in the kitchen, dressed in a crisp suit for her breakfast meeting and carefully inspecting the calendar that hung beside the fridge.

"Good morning." Tina inhaled the scent of freshly-brewed coffee as she opened the cupboard and reached for a mug. "How did you sleep?"

"Well," Bette hummed absentmindedly.

Tina looked up, brows furrowing. Bette's eyes were still fixed on the calendar. "You okay?"

At that, Bette broke out of her trance, finally looking over at Tina. "Yeah. I just, um. I just realized it's my dad's birthday."

"Oh," Tina breathed, the word full of sympathy, as she instantly made sense of Bette's distractedness. And—knowing her well—she immediately stepped forward and pulled the taller woman into a hug.

Bette clutched Tina tight, burying her face in loose blonde waves and inhaling her scent. Her hands traversed down a taut spinal column, and she molded herself into the blonde's frame, exhaling a shallow breath. There was really something so sacred about being held by Tina—like this. No other feeling compared.

Tina's arms tightened around Bette for a few final seconds, and then she released her, pulling back to inspect her face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. It's just weird." Bette paused for a minute, thinking. "It's the first year that the date blindsided me. Usually, I realize it's coming at least a week before."

Tina nodded, her eyes caressing Bette's face. "It's normal to miss him."

Bette shrugged. "I don't know that I miss him, exactly."

"That's normal, too." Tina brushed her palm over Bette's shoulder, down her upper arm.

"I think he'd be proud of the way our lives turned out," Bette mused optimistically, not wanting to put a damper on Tina's day. She reached for her cup of coffee and brought it up toward her lips, blowing over it softly.

"He'd be proud of the way your life turned out," Tina corrected with a smile. "He hated me."

"He did not hate you," Bette maintained.

Tina fixed Bette with a look, eyebrow raised. "He definitely didn't like me."

"Toward the end, he did," Bette defended. "Those last few days, at least." She thought back to her father on his deathbed—how that was the first time he hadn't soured at the sight of them together.

"Those last few days were the first time I liked him," Tina admitted.

Surprised by that information, Bette's brows flew up. "Really?"

Tina nodded as she reached for her box of tea. "That was the first time I could bear him." She dropped a teabag into her mug and poured in the boiling water. When she looked back up a minute later, the troubled expression on Bette's face—those slightly flushed cheeks—gave her pause.

"So you really didn't like him like the whole eight years you knew him?"

"Well . . ." Tina hesitated, sensing that this was a delicate subject.

"And you never said anything," Bette noted.

"You know how he was. He was brilliant, but . . ."

"'But' . . . what?" Bette pressed, feeling her voice rise in pitch.

"Come on," Tina urged, laughing a little in disbelief. "Are we really going to fight about this?"

"I'm not fighting!" Bette insisted. Then, consciously, she worked soften her tone. "I'm just . . . processing."

"Okay."

As Bette looked down at her watch, she sighed, genuinely regretful. "I need to go."

"Bette . . ." Tina's mouth fell open. She's leaving? Now? "I really didn't mean to—"

Meeting hazel eyes, Bette worked up a smile. "I know. Really, it's just that I need to meet Feldman downtown in twenty-five minutes."

Aware that the conversation was far from over—and far from any resolution—Tina frowned.

Watching the blonde's face, the way she was worrying the inside of her cheek between her teeth, Bette's heart lurched. She didn't want to fight. And she certainly didn't want to upset Tina. "I love you. Okay?" She leaned in, pressing her lips to a pink cheek. "We'll talk as soon as I get home."

Tina nodded softly as they pulled back. "Good luck."

Two hours later, flipping through the newest The New Yorker, Tina heard her phone ding with a text. Sitting up straighter, she grabbed it off the coffee table. Bette.

Going to be a little later than expected. Feldman's having the associate curator give me a tour of the collections, but I'll come home as soon as I can. Xo.

Tina sighed. She had been through this before—Bette being "stuck" at work and, often, for much longer than expected. And, like always, she knew that the best option in those situations was to change gears, to move on rather than waiting around. Because, most of the time, she would be stuck waiting all day.

Take your time. See you later.

Standing up, she made her way up the stairs to change into her gardening clothes, slipping into some comfortable shoes. With Bette's meeting extended—and maybe for hours—she made a mental to-do list of how to spend her day off: tend to the garden, get groceries, do the laundry, review the upcoming script, vacuum the house.

Later that morning, at work on planting lavender in the raised flower beds, Tina thought to call their therapist to get a little perspective about her and Bette's conversation that morning.

Wiping her silt-coated hands onto her pants, Tina reached for her phone and tapped Dr. Coleman's office number.

When the receptionist transferred her call, Tina tapped the speaker icon and set her phone on the ground beside her, refocusing on packing in the soil.

"Tina?"

"Hey, Dr. Coleman," Tina greeted. "Thanks for taking my call."

"Certainly. What can I do for you?"

Tina frowned as she tried to figure out how to articulate the nuances of their conversation that morning. "I, um, I think Bette's upset with me."

The therapist waited.

"We were talking about her father, and I said I didn't like him," Tina continued, "and . . . I think she took it personally."

"What makes you think that?"

Tina smiled a little. "Bette has a very expressive face. For better or worse, I can tell what she's feeling the second she feels it. Always have."

"Did you say anything else about Bette's father?" Dr. Coleman asked.

Tina shook her head. "Just that he hated me and that I didn't like him, either. Which is true." She sighed. "I don't think I should have to apologize for saying it out loud."

"No," the therapist agreed. "You have the right to voice your feelings. But, if you want to resolve the conflict more quickly, I don't think it would be disingenuous to say you regret the effect of your words."

Tina bit the inside of her lip. "Yeah."

"I've said this before to you two," Dr. Coleman continued, "but it may bear repeating: getting hung up on whether you're 'right' is a losing strategy. It doesn't sound like you were intentionally insensitive, but the statement wasn't received well. Since you love Bette, you might want to express regret about that."

"Okay," Tina agreed. "Thank you."

That afternoon, finally free of the museum, Bette opted to call Dr. Coleman on her way back to her car.

"Hey," Bette greeted after the receptionist transferred her to the therapist. "Do you have a minute to check in?"

"Absolutely. What's going on?"

"Tina and I, um, we got into an argument earlier. Or, well," she self-corrected, "we almost got into an argument."

Dr. Coleman waited for an explanation and then, when it didn't come, she asked, "What happened?"

"We were talking about my dad and she said that she didn't like him. And I got upset."

"How come?"

Bette's brows furrowed. "Because he's my dad." Obviously.

"You've never disliked anyone in Tina's family?" the therapist wondered.

"Oh, I definitely have," Bette informed her. "But that's different. I've never met her sister, and they don't even speak. She knew my dad for eight years."

Dr. Coleman didn't respond for a long moment, and Bette found herself resenting her condescending silence.

Finally: "Bette, did you call me so that I could tell you that you were right and that your reaction was appropriate?"

Bette blinked, feeling hopeful. "Was it?"

The therapist chuckled softly. "No," she insisted. "It's not fair for you to police your partner's opinion of another human being. Especially if she was kind to your father in-person, and it sounds like she was."

"She was," Bette admitted. "Always."

"So maybe this shouldn't have been an argument—or even an 'almost-argument,'" Dr. Coleman offered. "Maybe, the conversation can just become an opportunity for the two of you to reflect on how you speak to each other and your reactions."

Bette nodded.

"Maybe in the future," the therapist continued, "Tina will be more careful about her tone to avoid sounding glib. And maybe you'll remind yourself that you can't control or correct your partner's experience just because it's different from your own."

"You're right. Thank you."

A minute later, arriving at her car, Bette sat in the driver's seat and took out her phone to put in an order at Tina's favorite Thai restaurant.

It was after five when Tina heard from Bette again: Picking up dinner now. Be home in 30.

From her seat on the couch, Tina tucked her feet beneath her. She adjusted her reading glasses, pushing them up higher on her nose as she refocused on her laptop, responding to the new emails in her inbox.

Forty minutes later, Bette opened the front door, shutting it gingerly behind her. Setting down her purse, she followed the sound of running water into the kitchen and caught sight of Tina at the sink, filling up two glasses.

At the sound of footsteps, Tina turned her head and saw Bette, holding their takeout and a dozen sunflowers, taking a few careful steps toward her.

"Welcome home," Tina greeted.

"Thank you." Bette held out the bouquet, her voice coming out timid. "These are for you."

Tina accepted the offered gift, her lips quirking up. Her fingertip stroked one of the yellow petals.

Bette met hazel eyes, looking unsure. "Forgive me?"

Tina chuckled a little as she reached around the refrigerator for the bouquet of lilies she had bought for Bette earlier that afternoon. She extended her arm, holding them out toward her. "Only if you forgive me."

Feeling a sense of relief—that she hadn't messed up too badly, that everything would be fine—Bette's lips lifted into a slow smile as she took the flowers from Tina's hand.

Tina lifted her palm to Bette's upper arm, stroking it affectionately. "Are you hungry?"

Bette nodded.

Tina opened the cupboard, pulling out two plates. "Let's eat."

Wordlessly, they decided to eat dinner on the couch. Maybe because, inherently, they wanted that closeness—to sit together without the table as a barrier between them.

After taking a bite, Tina set down her heaping plate of food on the coffee table. "Bette . . ." she began, not wanting another minute to pass without resolution.

Mid-chew, Bette looked up, eyes wide with worry.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Tina continued apologetically. "I regret saying that I didn't like your dad. I didn't mean to upset you."

Setting down her plate beside Tina's, Bette shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she vowed. "I'm sorry. You have a right to your opinion, and I never want to police it."

Tina lifted her shoulders. "I know. And, for what it's worth, it's so much more complicated than me not liking Melvin," she clarified. "He was smart and well-spoken, so—if I was anyone else—I'm sure I would've been charmed by him. But I was your girlfriend and your partner. Of course I felt protective over you."

Bette smiled.

"I loved you, so it killed me a little—every time he said something critical and I watched your face fall."

"Yeah," Bette exhaled. "You're right. Earlier, I think what you said just felt so jarring because—like we spoke about last night—you've always seen the best in everyone and had so much sympathy for people being the way they are."

Tina nodded.

"In the twenty-five years I've known you," Bette continued, "it's been rare that you've just flat-out disliked someone."

"That's true," Tina agreed. "It's been a long time, so I understand why you might not remember, but . . ." She sighed. "Your father was not kind to me—and, often, he wasn't kind to you, either."

"I know," Bette conceded.

"And you tried so hard to prevent his criticism, to show him only what he wanted to see, and he still always would come up with a complaint about the way you were living."

Bette looked down. "For him, I spent so much of my life learning to shrink myself down to a more tolerable size."

"Right," Tina agreed. "And it's like I said last night, too: I've always been so in awe of your confidence. So, every time he visited, it felt so foreign to me—seeing you so cautious and self-conscious in front of him." She reached out, fingertip tracing the line of Bette's jaw, and then she shrugged helplessly. "I didn't like him. But I was grateful for him because, without him, there would be no you."

Bette smiled softly, her eyes welling up. Shaking her head, she exhaled a shuddery breath as she reached for Tina's hand, bringing it up to her lips. "I'm so in love with you."

Tina felt her stomach flip, her lips blooming into a wide smile. "Me, too."

They were quiet for a minute, happy just to look at each other, Bette's index finger tracing the lines on Tina's palm.

Then, remembering Bette's busy day, Tina's head shot up. "Oh, how was Feldman?"

"He was good," Bette recalled. "The collections were amazing. Warhol, Van Gogh, Miró, Matisse . . ."

Tina raised a knowing eyebrow. "I'm assuming that he offered you the position?"

Bette nodded. "He begged me to take it. Spared no expense."

Tina knew what this meant—that, soon, Bette would be a lot less available and they would spend much less time together. Still, she bit back her own selfish anxiety and offered a proud smile. "They're lucky to have you."

Bette looked at Tina's face for a moment. Then, she shook her head, chuckling a little. "Ti, I turned down the job."

Tina's brows flew up. "Really?"

Bette nodded. "I've known Feldman for one day and, already, he tried to monopolize my time. He was so pushy about it that I missed out on spending the day with you." She reached out, affectionately twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger, and smiled softly. "I meant what I said before: I've spent my whole adult life focused on my career. Now, I really just want to be with you."

Tina felt her heart swell in her chest. She felt her whole body begin to vibrate.

Bette's smile widened at Tina's expression. "I guess I made the right call, huh?"

"I was already mourning missed time with you," Tina admitted.

Bette's hand traversed down Tina's side, down the soft curve of her waist. "Now tell me about your day."

Tina made a face. "I mostly just worked and cleaned the house."

Bette raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I had to change my plans after Feldman kidnapped you," Tina defended.

Bette smiled with her. "Never again."

"But now that you're here," Tina began, biting her bottom lip, "do you want to watch a movie in bed with me after dinner?"

Bette's head immediately bobbed in assent. "Always."

Two hours later, as the movie credits rolled, Bette and Tina made no effort to reach for the remote, comfortable lying there together—Bette's arm wrapped tight around Tina's back, Tina's thigh locked between Bette's, their fingertips grazing over each other's skin.

Feeling warm and cozy and at-home, Bette let her eyes fall shut.

Listening to the brunette's steady breaths, Tina lifted up her head and spotted her closed eyes. "Are you falling asleep on me already?"

"No," Bette hummed, palm running down Tina's upper arm.

Tina altered her positioning, curling into Bette, her lips running the length of a bronze cheek.

"Mmm." Turning toward her, Bette mirrored Tina's position, hand running down her back.

Tina maintained contact, lips moving south as she mouthed the column of Bette's throat. She pulled down the collar of her tank top to give herself more room.

Her grip tightening around Tina's back, Bette pulled her closer, breath coming faster already.

Tina encouraged Bette onto her back, rolling on top of her and falling between splayed open legs. Pressing her full weight onto the brunette, she captured full lips in a deep kiss, her palms running over Bette's sides, thumbs moving rhythmically across hardening nipples.

Instinctually, Bette reached for the dough of Tina's ass, pulling the blonde harder against her.

Her breath shuddering out, Tina forced herself to refocus for a moment. She pulled back—just enough to meet brown eyes. "Are you too tired?"

Looking at Tina's thoughtful expression, the caution in her voice, Bette's lips quirked up. She reached up, pushing back blonde waves. "Definitely not too tired." She lifted her head, sucking on a pink bottom lip, mouth opening and instantly feeling a warm tongue trace over hers.

Tina reached for the back of Bette's head, fingers knotting in loose curls. "Good," she husked into Bette's mouth. "Because I want you."

Bette let out a low chuckle. "I should've started turning down job offers years ago."

"Maybe." Tina laughed with her, peppering tan cheeks with kisses. "But, honestly," she began, "you're you, so I would've wanted you either way."

Pulling Tina closer, Bette used the leverage to roll them over, breath coming out fast as she landed on top, those full breasts soft against hers. Reaching for a smooth jaw, she pressed their lips together in a slow, deep kiss.

Tina moaned in approval, her grip tightening around Bette's back. Parting her lips to deepen the kiss, their tongues brushing, she reached for the hem of Bette's top, pulling it up toward her head.

Bette sat back on her knees to take it off and, as soon as she was back within Tina's reach, she felt freckled hands cup her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples. Her eyes fell shut in pleasure, and she yanked at an oversized T-shirt, wanting Tina topless, too. Her voice came out tight, needy. "Can you take this off?"

Tina smirked as she arched her back and lifted up her arms to help Bette pull off her shirt. "I knew you could rally."

Bette laughed, lowering her head to kiss the curve of Tina's stomach, to lick a line up her sternum as she pulled off her shirt.

As soon as Tina was free of the fabric, she held Bette close against her again, groaning at the sensation of hot skin against hers.

Bette's mouth devoured the sound—and, god, those lips—her body thrumming with desire, consumed by the feeling of Tina's warmth, her soft caresses, her insistent mouth.

Even through her shorts, Tina could feel the heat of a pelvis against hers, and she lowered her hand to Bette's tailbone, pressing, urging her closer as she lifted her hips in search of a little friction.

Her face buried in a warm neck, Bette's breath stuttered out at the feeling.

Tina ducked her head, capturing full lips in a long kiss.

Bette playfully nipped a bottom lip, hands stroking her sides, her upper arm, her flushed chest.

Grabbing a toned ass again, Tina rolled her hips up against Bette's body—and Bette eagerly reciprocated as she ground down against her center.

"You're so hot," Tina breathed, her lips insistent against Bette's.

Bette kissed her chin, her jaw, her clavicle, her chest. Ducking her head, she wrapped her lips around a hardened pink nipple, tongue running over it.

Tina's eyes fell shut. "Yes."

Exploring a full right breast with her mouth, Bette's hand came up to the left, kneading lightly, rolling a nipple between her fingers.

Tina's breath caught in her throat as she lost herself in the feeling of Bette's skilled fingers and mouth against her skin. She reached up, palming bronze breasts, her grip tightening as Bette's teeth scraped over her opposite nipple. "Oh, fuck."

Bette's center clenched at those words, turned on—as she always was—by Tina's sounds of pleasure, the way she had always reacted to her touch. Slowly, she made her way down that perfect body that she knew as well as her own, lazily dragging her tongue down a soft abdomen, feeling muscles tense under her tongue. She pressed her lips to the white line of her C section scar, to the hollow of her right hip—a sensitive spot that always drove Tina wild.

Tina's back arched at the sensation, a low moan escaping her lips. Hoping to encourage Bette to move a little faster, she hooked her thumbs under her own pajama shorts and underwear, starting to pull them off.

Amused, Bette dropped another affectionate kiss to Tina's stomach before pulling her clothing the rest of the way down toned legs. Getting up onto her knees, she quickly unclothed herself and, a moment later, her body was back on Tina's, their lips immediately pressed. She tucked her hand between their bodies, her index finger immediately locating Tina's swollen clit.

Tina's breath caught in her throat, and Bette exhaled a breathless laugh, a little prideful when she felt how wet Tina was already. She pressed a finger lower—teasing her entrance and then bringing some of the wetness up to encircle her clit.

Tina brought a hand down Bette's body to parallel her actions and gasped as soon as she made contact with her slippery slit.

Bette buried her face in Tina's neck, exhaling a low groan against smooth skin.

Tina smiled knowingly, pulling back to meet dark eyes as she continued to circle Bette's clit. "Does that feel okay?"

Leaning in, Bette suctioned Tina's top lip as that delicate finger maintained its rhythm. "It feels so good."

And then, again, Bette began making her way down Tina's body, kissing smooth skin before finally settling herself between freckled thighs. Wrapping her arms tightly around them, brown eyes locked with hazel as she lowered her face, flattening her tongue against Tina's clit.

"Fuck," Tina breathed, chest heaving. She forced herself to keep her eyes open—to meet Bette's sensuous gaze as she began to pleasure her with so much care.

Caressing Tina's thighs, Bette tongued either side of her clit—the touch more teasing than anything else. She ducked her face, pressing her tongue into a wet slit and immediately moaning at the taste of her.

"Bette . . ." Tina pleaded, her fingers threading through dark hair.

Bette smiled as she refocused her attention on Tina's clit and gave her what she wanted, wrapping her lips around it and sucking it into her mouth, tongue applying light pressure.

Tina immediately cried out—louder than she'd intended to—her hand clutching Bette's head and holding tight.

Her eyes on Tina's face, Bette remained focused, her mouth maintaining its pressure, allowing Tina's hips to establish her desired rhythm. Exhaling a hard breath through her nose, she brought her hand up to a bouncing breast, feeling a pink nipple tighten beneath her palm.

And, unable to help herself—what, with the small sounds Tina was making, the feel and taste of her against her tongue—Bette began grinding down against the mattress, desperate for a little relief.

A small moan escaped her lips at the sensation and, feeling the vibration against her clit, Tina gasped. "God . . ."

Another few minutes passed, Tina's hips lifting rhythmically against Bette's mouth, the occasional whimper falling from her throat. She caressed Bette's upper back, her touch tender. "Sorry, I know I'm being greedy. It just feels so good."

Bette pulled back, just for a second, to counter, "No, I'm being greedy." She pressed her lips to Tina's inner thigh. "I'd be happy to do this all night." Suctioning Tina's clit between her lips again, she hummed in approval, knowing Tina would appreciate the vibration. "You always taste so good."

Easily building up their earlier intensity, Tina felt her hips moving of their own accord. She reached for the arm still holding tight to her thigh and located Bette's hand, their fingers immediately entwining.

With her other hand, Bette pushed two fingers inside her, letting them curl into a C. On her next thrust, she pushed them in deeper, squeezing Tina's hand in hers as she felt the blonde's climax hit her: back arching, body momentarily turning rigid, her mouth opened in a long, sustained moan that was loud enough to wake the neighbors.

As she came, Tina felt her thighs inadvertently tighten around Bette's head, holding her in place and forbidding any movement. She gripped Bette's hand, gripped the pillow behind her, gripped anything she could grab ahold of.

Bette maintained pressure, eagerly lapping up any wetness Tina had to offer, her own hips subtly raising and lowering against the mattress.

Finally, after another minute, Tina's body stopped convulsing. She fell back against the pillow, heart still beating in her ears.

Wiping her mouth—and her cheeks, and her chin—with the back of her hand, Bette kissed her way up Tina's stomach, along her chest and neck, her jaw. Lying breast to breast and feeling Tina's wetness smear against her pubic bone, she nuzzled their noses and then leaned in for a kiss.

Tina's hand came up to cup a bronze cheek, and she smiled against swollen lips. Pulling back a moment later, her smile widened when she met brown eyes. "You are incredible."

Bette shone back at her.

Pulling her in for another kiss—longer, more breathless this time—Tina buried her hand between bronze thighs again, fingers instantly locating a slippery clit.

Bette muffled her cry of pleasure against Tina's lips, body jerking of its own accord.

Tina ducked her head, tonguing the skin at Bette's chest. Finger running rhythmically over her clit, she watched in awe as Bette, aroused beyond measure, bucked against her hand.

"God, Tina," Bette groaned, eyes falling shut.

"Come here." Tina pulled at a toned waist to encourage Bette to change positions, guiding her up the length of her body to encourage her to sit on her face. "I want to taste you."

Placing a knee on either side of Tina's head—careful to avoid pulling her hair—Bette grabbed the headboard to steady herself as arms wrapped tightly around her thighs and Tina pulled her body down onto her face.

"Whoa," Bette faltered as soon as she felt the warmth of Tina's tongue running over her slit.

Tina moaned at the taste of her, and the vibration made Bette's breath shudder out, her grip tightening against the headboard.

Holding steady pressure, Tina's mouth and tongue began moving rhythmically over Bette's bundle of nerves, knowing exactly what she liked.

And, right away, Bette's hips began moving, grinding down against Tina's mouth.

Tina reached up to palm those gorgeous breasts bouncing above her and watched her face with awe: the way her lips parted, eyes shutting, head falling forward, her expression one of unadulterated pleasure. And, despite the huge orgasm she'd just had, she found herself getting unbelievably turned on at the sight of Bette writhing above her, slowly edging toward a release.

Her hips maintaining their movements, grinding rhythmically against Tina's mouth, Bette leaned back—enough to reach between Tina's legs, enough that she could part her folds with her fingers.

Circling her clit with her thumb, Bette began pumping two fingers into her, loving the feeling of Tina sucking her in deeper, the way her hips lifted toward her touch.

Fighting the need to breathe, Tina's hands moved over Bette's arching back. She massaged her ass and thighs, worshiped every inch of skin she could reach.

Bette continued rocking against Tina's face, the occasional moan and unintelligible murmur falling from her lips. "Oh, fuck," she panted. "Ti, I'm going to—" As Tina's grip tightened on her ass, pulling her down harder against her lips, the brunette gasped. "I'm—I'm—" Before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by the force of her orgasm, hips suddenly jerking uncontrollably.

Feeling a new wave of wetness coat her chin, and listening to that sudden strangled groan, Tina moaned against Bette's center, lips and tongue keeping pressure, wanting to prolong her pleasure for as long as she possibly could.

After another minute, Bette rolled off Tina's body, moving to lie down beside her with a satisfied sigh.

Licking Bette's excess arousal from her lips, Tina turned to face her, eyes shining. "I will never get tired of that."

"Me neither," Bette grinned back, leaning in to press a loving kiss onto bruised lips.

Tina pulled her in closer, legs braiding between them.

Still sensitive—and turned on—Bette's hips jerked as soon as she felt Tina's thigh against her.

Tina smiled, endeared. Her index finger stroked over Bette's knuckles, then up her forearm toward her shoulder. "I can't believe I went almost four years without this. I must have just pushed it out of my memory as a survival mechanism. Otherwise, I would've come running back after a week."

Bette chuckled. "To be fair, toward the end of our marriage, we were having a bit of a sexual lull."

Tina shook her head, joking, "More wasted time." Reaching out, she tucked a wayward curl behind Bette's ear. "But, now that you've reminded me just how good it is, I'm going to want to have sex with you every hour of every day for the rest of my life."

At that, Bette laughed, delighted. "That's how we can spend our retirement while everyone else volunteers and does water aerobics."

"Sounds like a perfect plan." Tina leaned forward, brushing over Bette's lips, eyes falling shut at the sensation of their breasts rubbing together, a tan hand coming to rest on the back of her neck and pulling her closer.

As their wet lips continued to glide against each other, Bette lowered her other hand to Tina's hip, forcing her closer.

And, moving her thigh—just a little—against Bette's soaking center, Tina immediately felt hot moisture coat her skin.

"Tina . . ." Bette whimpered, her breath ragged.

Her lips on Bette's, Tina rolled her hips, rubbing herself against a toned thigh.

In response, Bette ground down again, her legs holding Tina's thigh against her clit. Needing air, she ducked her head into Tina's neck, damp with sweat. As her hips repeated the movement, she muffled her moan against salty skin.

Feeling Bette's wetness smear over her thigh again—slick and making a slight squelching sound every time they moved—Tina groaned. "God, you're soaked."

Bette kissed the side of her neck. "You can thank yourself for that." She lowered her hand between Tina's thighs, pushing two fingers inside her.

"Yes," Tina hissed out, her hips rolling, instinctively pulling Bette's fingers in deeper, pressing her clit against the heel of her hand.

Continuing to hump a freckled thigh, Bette pushed a third finger inside Tina, feeling walls clench around them.

Tina's eyes fell shut, her heart beating in her ears. "Oh my . . . god." She brought her fingers down to Bette's clit, making circular movements while Bette continued to rub herself against her.

Bette felt her breath come faster, her movements quickening, increasingly irregular. "Fuck. That feels so good," she panted, forcing herself to keep up her rhythm inside of Tina, despite how difficult it was becoming to maintain focus.

And, both desperate for a release, they continued rocking against each other's thighs and hands, their movements quickening. Bette lifted her head to kiss Tina, their mouths instantly sloppy and open, heavy breaths flowing between them . . .

Soon, their movements were beyond their control entirely, thrusts that came faster and faster and then turned to increasingly irregular jerks, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, breasts pressed tight.

Tina's nails scraped desperately down a bronze back, and she only half-registered Bette's surprised yelp. "Are you close?" she asked, feeling herself begin to lose control.

Utterly breathless, Bette let out something between a laugh and a moan. "I'm so close. Oh . . . just like that. Just a few more . . ." Her hand cupped Tina's ass, trying to force her impossibly closer.

Continuing to grind against Bette's hand, those three long fingers curling inside her, Tina was propelled into her climax a moment later, her body convulsing, hips moving of their own volition. "Bette!"

It only took another minute before Bette was moaning, too, shuddering against her, crying out, as she and Tina fumbled for each other, desperate to keep their bodies tightly pressed as they rode out their orgasms.

It was a full sixty seconds before Tina managed to return to her body and form coherent thoughts, her limbs stilling, her lungs finally taking in a full breath.

Beside her, blood still pulsing in her ears, Bette was surprised by the sound of exultant laughter coming from her throat.

Tina pulled back a few inches to look at Bette's face, smiling at the sound of her laughter. Her thumb came up to trace a smooth cheek. "Good?"

Still catching her breath, Bette ran her hand through her own sweat-matted hair and nodded. "Earth-shattering."

Crawling back into bed together after their hot shower, Tina caught sight of the scratch marks spanning Bette's back, all swollen and puckered and pink. She reached out, tracing one of the lines' diagonal trajectories, and winced. "Does it hurt?"

Bette craned her neck, trying to figure out what Tina was referring to, and then remembered. "No," she promised. "Don't worry."

Tina made a face, unconvinced.

"I mean, not in a bad way, anyway," Bette amended with a smile. Clicking off the lamp on her side table, she curled her body toward Tina's, their limbs immediately tangling.

Wrapping her arm around Bette's back, Tina leaned in for a kiss. "I love you."

Bette smiled against her lips. As they pulled back, her eyes moved over Tina's face, her expression thoughtful.

Tina looked back at her curiously. "What is it?"

Bette shrugged. "I'm just never going to get tired of hearing you say that."

Tina's smile widened. "Then I'll say it again." She left another kiss on delicious-looking lips. "I love you." She kissed her nose. "I love you." She kissed her forehead. "I love you."

Bette's palm ghosted down Tina's side. "I love you, too."

Tina dimpled. "I know." Then, she pressed lightly against a tan shoulder, silently encouraging Bette to rotate in her arms. "Turn around," she requested, voice soft.

Bette turned to the opposite side, and she shivered when Tina encased her in a warm embrace, arm slung around her to pull her closer.

Feeling breasts against her back, that soft body curled around hers, Bette hummed in appreciation. She reached for Tina's hand, intertwining their fingers for that additional connection, and exhaled a long breath, utterly at peace. "Goodnight."

Burying her face in damp curls, Tina shut her eyes. She brushed her lips against the nape of Bette's neck—one light, shiver-inducing kiss. "Goodnight."

The next morning, with soft sunlight peeking past the curtains, Bette stirred awake. Her mouth widening into a silent yawn, she allowed herself to stay in bed for a few more minutes, relishing in the promise of Tina's body behind her, warm and soft and smelling of home.

Then, ever so gently, she extracted her body from Tina's, tiptoeing into the bathroom to grab her robe and tying it around herself before sneaking downstairs.

In the kitchen, she turned on the faucet to heat up water in the kettle for tea. She searched the lower cabinets, knowing that there was a waffle maker somewhere—that Tina and Angie made them together during every visit. As soon as she found it, she plugged it in to warm it and whisked together a simple batter—eggs, a little flour, a little milk, a little sugar and baking powder—and sliced a handful of strawberries.

While they cooked, she steeped two mugs of English Breakfast and added a splash of milk to one—just the way Tina liked it. As she assembled everything on a wooden tray, inspiration struck. She ducked out into the garden with a set of scissors and came back in a minute later, a few sprigs of jasmine in hand. Tucking them into a small vase, she grabbed the tray and tiptoed back toward their room.

Upstairs, Tina was still fast asleep, and Bette smiled at the sight of her, all tousled blonde hair and parted lips, a stripe of sunlight slashing over her forehead.

Bette set the tray down on her bedside table and crawled back into bed, burying herself beneath the duvet, warm with body heat. Lying breast to breast, she wrapped her arm around Tina's back, pressing her lips to an ivory neck, breathing in the scent of her skin.

Slowly waking, Tina shivered at the sensation.

Bette maintained contact, kissing a bare shoulder, a warm neck, the soft curve of Tina's jaw.

Tina's breath shuddered out in pleasure, and Bette smiled at the sound. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Tina hummed. She pulled Bette in close, tucking her chin into her neck and inhaling the clean scent of her curls.

After a minute of them holding each other close, Bette pulled back enough to meet hazel eyes. She reached out, gently brushing a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. "How did you sleep?"

"Like a baby." Tina raised an eyebrow. "You wore me out."

Bette chuckled. "Same."

Tina reached for Bette's cheek, reverently caressing it. She lowered her thumb, lightly tracing the bow of full lips.

Watching Tina's lips curl up—the way the movement made small wrinkles form at the outer corners of her eyes—Bette couldn't help but reach out and finger the tiny lines, her touch feather-light. "You're beautiful."

Instinctively, Tina leaned in, pressing a kiss to a tan cheek, her hand tightening its hold on Bette's waist. Then, pulling back, she smiled as she feasted her eyes on her face.

Bette raised an eyebrow, looking curious. "What?"

Tina shrugged, her cheeks flushing. "I'm just really glad you're here."

At that, Bette felt warmth overcome her body. She felt it everywhere. "I am, too."

They were quiet for a minute, and then: "Oh, here," Bette remembered, sitting up to reach for Tina's tea.

Tina sat up with her, pulling the blankets with her to cover her naked chest. A second later, she reached out to accept the mug that Bette handed to her.

Bette set down her own mug on her bedside table and then carefully set down the full tray of food between them.

Blowing softly on her steaming tea, Tina blinked at the pile of waffles, the bowl of strawberries, the tiny pitcher of syrup—the jasmine tucked carefully into the vase. "You . . . made me my favorite breakfast?" she asked, a little wonder in her voice.

Bette shrugged shyly. "After last night, it was the least I could do." Then, watching Tina duck her head to sniff the flowers, she noted, "I saw the lavender in the backyard. How long has that been there?"

"I planted it yesterday." When Tina looked up, she found herself momentarily disarmed by those dark eyes that were full of so much tenderness and devotion that the sight made her stomach erupt with butterflies.

Bette reached out, affectionately attempting to smooth down Tina's bed-head. "Any ideas for how we should spend the day?

Tina forked a strawberry, lifting it up to her lips. "Is it presumptuous to say I want to spend it in bed with you?"

Bette laughed. "Waffles and sex. Sounds like the perfect day to me."

Tina plopped one of the waffles onto a plate and handed it to Bette, offering out her sweetest smile.

Bette raised an eyebrow. "Is that a subtle way of warning me that I'm going to need the energy?"

Tina sparkled back at her. "Eat up."