Focus on your work

You force your focus back down to the ledger, tracing the point of your pen across a column of figures, but the quiet rustle of paper from the hearth keeps pulling your attention. You glance up again.

Lily is still holding her book overhead, the flickering orange glow of the wood stove painting warm shadows along her bare legs and the curve of her waist. Just as your eyes drift back to her frame, her hands drop the hardcover an inch. Over the top edge of the pages, her dark eyes catch yours directly across the dim lounge.

She doesn’t jump or pull her shorts down. Instead, a slow, knowing smile touches the corners of her lips, her gaze holding yours for a long, quiet heartbeat through the firelight.

Without a word, she shifts her posture. Rolling onto her side with her back turned toward the front desk, she pulls her knees up toward her chest to prop the book on the sofa cushion.

The movement pulls the light silk of her small pink striped shorts tight across her hips. The thin fabric stretches taut, riding up significantly in the back and outlining her full curves while leaving the lower swell of her bare rear completely exposed in the firelight. She turns a page, settling into the new position as if entirely oblivious to the view she’s left in your line of sight.