Page 207 of Yearn
Her voice dropped to a low purr. “And above it, framed black-and-white erotic photography. Tasteful. Sensual. Bodies in silhouette, mouths just barely touching. The kind of art that makes your genitals ache a little.”
“Oh.” I imagined that and had to admit that I was digging it.
Ro’s jaw dropped. “Cadence. You’re giving design porn.”
“Oh, I’m not finished.” Cadence’s eyes sparkled now, her voice growing bolder, silkier. “In front of the bookshelf, you put a low chaise. Something decadent—maybe emerald velvet or cream leather. And then—” she paused for drama “—you sit there naked with Dominic, and you both take turns reading aloud to each other. Slowly. One steamy hot paragraph at a time.”
“Oh. My. God.” Ro clutched her chest like she’d been personally blessed by the goddess of filth. “Who are you and what have you done with my sweet prudish little librarian friend?”
I was blushing, but my mind was already painting the scene—the quiet rustle of pages, Dominic’s deep voice in the low light, his fingers brushing my skin as he read something too beautiful, too dirty to exist outside that room.
“That,” I murmured, half-dazed, “might actually be the sexist idea anyone has ever had.”
Ro pointed dramatically at Cadence. “You win. You officially win book club forever.”
Cadence’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Reading is fundamental.”
We all screamed laughing after that—but the image lingered, warm and dangerous.
We stayed there for a while—three women in a secret room, laughing about sex, life, and the beautiful chaos of it all.
And when we finally made our way back to the dining room for more drinks, I looked around at my life and thought:
This.
This is what happy endings look like.
Not perfect.
Not simple.
Not anything like the fairy tales promised.
But real.
Messy.
Beautiful.
Mine.
“Next month’s book?” Cadence asked, scrolling through her phone. “Maybe something quieter? Emotional depth? Healing?”
Ro snorted. “Absolutely not. We’re reading the one about the mechanic and the Southern belle. There’s oil. There’s filth. There’s a wrench going deep into the heroine’s vagina.”
Cadence groaned. “You and your hardware erotica.”
“Don’t knock it till you torque it,” Ro said.
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my drink. “Y’all are going to get me banned from Amazon’s recommendations list.”
And as they bickered about book choices and Matilda appeared with more fake champagne for me and more real champagne for them, I rested my hand on my stomach—where something impossibly tiny was growing into my future—and smiled.
Because this was my life now.
Dominic.
Luxury.
