A nap sounds great.

You plop down on the couch and close your eyes. The sun and the heat have sapped your energy, which was already low on reserves after several days of non-stop sex, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep. You wake up and check the time to see you've been knocked out for over an hour, and you make your way to the kitchen where you find Gemma leaning up against the counter reading a magazine.

"I didn't want to wake you," she smiles, opening the fridge and grabbing an ice-cold beer for you. "You looked so peaceful."

She places the bottle on the table and begins to start preparing your dinner. You sit down at the table and take a long swig of the beer, the refreshing bubbles popping as the liquid rolls down your parched throat. After about 15 minutes, she places a plate with a nicely seared steak and a salad on the side in front of you.

"Wow, I didn't know you were such a good cook," you say, as you take the first bite.

"Oh there's a lot of things you don't know about me," she grins, pleased that you're happy with the meal.