Hunting Season

Elaine rushed into the house a few steps ahead of Roy, adrenaline and nerves buzzing under her skin. She could still hear the van door sliding shut behind her as she hurried down the hall, stripping off layers as she went: hoodie first, then bra, sweatpants, panties, and socks with pine needles clinging to them.

Her ensuite bathroom filled with steam as she ran the hot water and stepped into the shower. The first touch of damp heat against her body made her sigh. Sweat, trail grit, grief, she scrubbed it all away.

Quick shower done, water off, she patted herself dry, then leaned closer to the mirror. The faint tiredness under her eyes was still there, though she did her best with foundation and blush. Mascara, a hint of liner. Not too dramatic. She didn't want him thinking she was trying too hard, even though she absolutely was.

Walking into the empty house earlier, even as rushed as she was, had hit her harder than she'd expected. The quiet rooms felt cavernous, every sound echoing off corners Mark used to fill. The kids had moved out years ago. And now Mark had died. Two months later she still hadn't adjusted. It wasn't the kind of empty that time fixed easily.

But Roy...

Roy made it bearable.

No. Better than bearable.

Just knowing he was steps away in her hallway made the house warmer, fuller. Not haunted. Lived in again.

She smoothed her hair back and paused, really looking at herself. Signs of her age had begun to show in recent years. The white that had invaded her hair, the wrinkles here and there if you knew where to look. Elaine knew that she was beautiful, Mark had told her many times, and she worked hard at it. Not only staying in shape for work, but for herself, too. She wasn't a young woman anymore, and before Roy, the thought of starting over had been unthinkable. But he had done it, won her over, showed her that it wasn't youth that made someone lovable, it was who you were, truly, that shone through if it was going to mean something.

And with Roy, Elaine felt like he could see her shine.

On the bench today she'd wanted comfort, wanted connection, and had gone immediately to what she knew best: touch, desire, a physical bridge over pain. And he'd stopped her. Gently but firmly. He had been right, of course. Straight through her actions Roy had seen, right into what was really happening with her. Her heart had still been half-stuck in the ash she'd thrown to the wind.

Mark's ashes. Mark's memory.

Her goodbye today had felt final and impossible at the same time.

But Roy was here. Roy was real. Roy was hers. Elaine very much knew how fleeting life and love could be, having just experienced one of the deepest losses a person could have, and she wasn't going to waste one moment of her second chance.

She gave herself one more once-over. Then she reached for her lingerie.

Black lace bra first. She fitted it snugly and watched the transformation as the underwire lifted and framed her curves. Matching panties next. Small, delicate, almost daring by her usual standards. Stockings followed, then the heels she wore once a year for some formal dinner Mark used to drag her to.

The last piece was the robe; black, sheer, more suggestion than fabric. It settled around her shoulders like permission.

Elaine took a breath. She looked stunning.

Hell, she felt stunning.

Roy was sweet, thoughtful, and a little skittish. She could practically feel his conscience vibrating. She wasn't made of glass, but he treated her as if she would break every time he touched her. What she needed, what Elaine craved, was for Roy to put aside his qualms and take what she was offering him. Knowing how sensitive he was, how much he cared for her, how much he wanted to protect her, Elaine would have to be strategic if she was going to get what she wanted.

She needed to hit him where he was weak.

She laughed under her breath. Old lesson, learned long ago.

Men, in so many ways, were predictable. Mark had been the same way. Sure, he might have put up a fuss over some issue that they disagreed on, but show a little leg, flash a little nipple, and he'd come around. Roy would be the same, but she didn't want to leave anything to chance. Her outfit might as well have been scientifically designed as a Roy-trap, and hunting season was open.

She stepped softly down the hall, heels whispering on hardwood. The house felt different already; alive, charged, warm from within. More than that. It felt exciting, as if something new was beginning, something better. A rebirth of a life of possibility.

The living room was the right place to set her snare: open, visible, no escape routes for him to overthink his way through. She lowered herself slowly to her knees on the rug, knowing exactly how it would look to her boyfriend. The robe slid open, framing her body. She adjusted her posture, arching her back slightly, one hand lifting to play with her breasts, the other drifting lower, coming to rest in her groin, slowly drawing circles over her vagina. It was an invitation that could not possibly be misunderstood.

Elaine tried to imagine the sight he'd walk in on; her hair loose around her shoulders, her skin still warm from the shower, lace hugging every curve. A widow remade into something alive again. A woman choosing desire instead of sorrow.

She grinned. Wicked. Hungry. Thrilled.

Then she called out.

"Roy! Baby? Can you come here for a second?"

She could hear his footsteps, slow at first, then more purposeful. A soft clink of glass on counter. The shuffle of weight turning. Coming toward her.

And then he appeared in the doorway.

He froze.

He stared.

Jaw unhinged like someone had flicked his power switch off.

Perfect.

She smiled up at him, eyes bright, heartbeat singing, putting on a show for her man.

"I'm still feeling pretty riled up from our time on the bench, babe," she purred, voice low and teasing. "I was hoping we could pick it up where we left off."

She tilted her head, a sly, hungry smirk pulling at her mouth.

"Unless," she added softly, playful and dangerous all at once, "you have somewhere else you need to be."

She could see it all over him. His slack jaw, his wide-eyed stare, the way his pupils seemed to grow darker the longer he looked at her.

He didn't have anywhere else to be.

He didn't want to be anywhere else.

He was hers.

Elaine let her smile sharpen into something slow and wicked.

"Good," she purred. "Because I wrapped you a present."

She tugged lightly on the strap of her bra, letting it slide down her shoulder, just enough for him to get the idea.

"Don't you want to open it?" she teased.

That did it.

Whatever hesitation he'd carried home from the forest dissolved right off him. He moved. One decisive step, then another, until he towered over her, still kneeling on the carpet. Up close, she could see he was still trying to catch up to what his eyes were telling him was real.

She moved her hands away from her own body and lifted them toward him, offering herself like something precious, or dangerous. He took her hands, big warm palms closing around her fingers, holding her gently like he was terrified she might vanish.

Then he pulled her up.

Her body slid against his as she rose; her knees, her thighs, her belly brushing along the fabric of his clothes. By the time she was standing, her bra had slipped just a little more, and she could feel his heat, all of it, pouring off him like he'd stepped out of a furnace. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing into him, letting her weight rest there, delighting in how solid he felt beneath her fingertips.

His scent, pine from the hike, soap, and something purely Roy, flooded her lungs.

She kissed him.

And it wasn't gentle.

Fiercely, her lips met his, hunger cracking through every boundary he'd carefully set up around her, knocking over his defenses. Elaine had no time for timidity. She wanted Roy, and she wanted Roy to want her.

And then he kissed her back, matching her urgency, his hands sliding up her back, holding her close, like he'd finally decided that wanting her wasn't a mistake, wasn't selfish.

Elaine melted into it, into him, into the heady feeling of being chosen, wanted, seen. Body humming, her heart thumped against his chest, and she felt something inside her shift. It wasn't away from Mark, not a dismissal, but an opening.

A door from grief into possibility.

When she finally pulled back, breathless, her lips tingled and her whole body felt alive again. Roy's forehead rested against hers, and she whispered the thought that pulsed through her with every heartbeat:

Thank God he's here.

Thank God I'm not alone anymore.