Morning arrived gently, sunlight slipping through the blinds and painting soft lines across Chris’s bedroom wall. He lay still for a moment, listening to the quiet hum of the place. The memory of last night lingered in the air, warmth that hadn’t fully faded. Megan’s voice echoed in his head—I’m off tomorrow. I can help you set things up. He smiled, knowing the day would feel different because of it.
By midmorning, the knock came.
Megan stood in the doorway exactly as she had the day before—denim shorts hugging her hips, and a soft, fitted tank top that traced the curve of her torso. Her sunglasses perched on top of her head, pushing back loose strands of hair that framed her face perfectly. Sunlight glinted across the gentle lines of her collarbone and the smooth skin at her waist. She looked casual, confident, and undeniably sexy.
“Hey,” Chris said, stepping aside to let her in. His chest rose a little faster at the sight of her. Her presence alone seemed to draw the warmth from the room.
Megan glanced around with a small, playful smile. “So… where do we start? Or are you hoping I just magically know where everything goes?”
Chris grinned. “I was kind of hoping you’d take the lead. You seem… persuasive.”
She laughed softly. “Persuasive, huh? I like the sound of that.”
They moved through the apartment naturally, like they’d done this before. Boxes were opened, shelves discussed, furniture nudged an inch this way or that. Megan took charge without taking over, occasionally glancing back at him to check if he agreed. Every time their eyes met, something unspoken passed between them. It was quiet. Steady. Growing.
“Careful with that shelf,” Chris said, lifting a heavy wooden plank. “I don’t think I want it to come crashing down on us.”
Megan smirked. “Oh, you’re the one handling the heavy stuff? I thought I’d get to show off my muscles.” She tilted her head, letting the sunlight hit the top of her hair, teasing him with a small, mischievous glint in her eyes.
Chris chuckled. “I think we both know who’s stronger here.”
She leaned back slightly on her heels. The shorts brushed the tops of her thighs. She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe,” he said, eyes tracing the curve of her waist just briefly. “But I warn you—I play to win.”
Megan laughed, low and playful. “You’d better. Or I’ll have to reconsider helping you.”
They worked like this for a while, teasing and nudging, sharing casual touches that lingered longer than necessary. At one point, Megan reached up to place a small lamp on a high shelf. The hem of her tank top lifted just enough to catch Chris’s eye. The line of skin at her waist glowed in the sunlight. He felt heat creep up his neck. She glanced back, catching him looking. Instead of teasing him, she gave him a tiny, knowing smile.
Chris turned away, then looked back again—unable to resist.
“Where do you want this?” she asked, holding a stack of folded linens against her hip. Her other hand brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Bedroom,” he said. “Last box, I think.”
They walked in together. The room was brighter now, softer in daylight. The bed was still there, waiting, familiar. Megan set the box down and took a moment to look around, hands resting lightly at her sides.
“Feels more settled,” she said, tilting her head. “Like it’s actually yours now.”
Chris leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “Didn’t feel that way until you came back,” he said, voice low.
She turned toward him, eyes locking with his. Her gaze held his—open, warm, a little daring. She stepped closer, closing the space without a word. He could feel her before she touched him.
“Good,” she said quietly. The sunlight made the subtle glow of her body even more noticeable.
They sat on the edge of the bed without discussing it. The mattress dipped beneath their weight. Their knees brushed. This time, neither shifted away. Megan’s fingers rested lightly on the bed between them. Chris’s hand settled near hers, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her.
“You know,” she said, smirking, “this place doesn’t look so intimidating with me here. I’m practically your interior designer now.”
Chris grinned. “Oh, I’m sure the price is reasonable. What’s your rate for expert advice?”
She leaned a little closer, letting her shoulder brush his. “Depends on the client,” she said, eyes locking with his in a playful challenge. “For a certain handsome man, I might be generous.”
Chris laughed, low and easy. “Good to know. I might have to hire you more often.”
They leaned back slightly, letting the air settle between them. Their proximity alone made the moment electric. Megan tilted her head, brushing her sunglasses down a bit so they rested lightly over her eyes. “You know, I was thinking last night,” she said softly, “that helping you unpack could be… fun.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Fun, huh? That sounds dangerous coming from you.”
She smiled, slow and teasing, and leaned just a fraction closer. He could feel her warmth against him.
“Dangerous is kind of my specialty,” she murmured.
Chris swallowed, caught by the heat in her voice and the sway of her body. He shifted a little, letting their knees touch more firmly. Megan didn’t move away. Instead, she rested her hand lightly on his thigh. Just a brush. But he noticed.
“Careful,” he said, voice low, “or I might start thinking this is a full-time service.”
She tilted her head, letting her hair fall slightly over her shoulder, eyes gleaming. “I think I’d be okay with that,” she said, teasing, soft, warm.
For a few moments, they just sat there. The mattress beneath them felt smaller. The room faded away. Their hands hovered near each other, occasionally brushing. Every glance, every subtle touch built a quiet, simmering tension neither wanted to rush.
Finally, Megan leaned back against her hands. Her head tilted toward him. Chris noticed the way her shorts fit over her hips. The soft line of her waist visible between the tank top and denim. She caught his gaze and gave him a slow, mischievous smile, clearly aware of the effect.
“You know,” she said softly, voice almost a whisper, “I could get used to this… helping you, being here.”
Chris’s hand moved closer to hers, brushing against her fingers without quite touching. “I think… I could get used to you being here, too,” he admitted, voice low, almost husky.
They sat like that for a while. The mattress beneath them felt smaller, the room fading around them. The air between them was heavy with unspoken promises.
Megan tilted her head, letting her sunglasses slip slightly to rest just above her eyes. Her lips curved in a teasing smirk.
“Should we finish unpacking… or just sit here all day?” she asked.
Chris leaned in just slightly, enough for their foreheads to touch, their breaths mingling. “I think… the house can wait,” he said.
Megan laughed softly, warm and low. “Good. Because I was hoping we’d have a little more… private time anyway.”
Without another word, they sank further onto the bed. Shoulders brushed. Knees pressed together. Hands found small ways to linger near each other. Neither rushed; neither pulled away. The room, the boxes, the sunlight—they were all just background to the moment. The quiet heat between them was what mattered.
And in that soft afternoon light, sitting together, laughing quietly, teasing each other, stealing glances full of promise, the apartment finally felt like home—because Megan was there, and she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
