Lucy's cheek rested against his chest, her breath warm and steady. Emma was curled into his side, a hand possessively draped over his stomach. Sophie lay tangled in Lucy's legs, her lips parted in sleep, a small smile on her face. The smell of skin, sweat, earth, and something sweeter than any flower he'd ever known hung in the air. Not perfume, not sap - something primal. Something born from what they'd shared the night before.
He watched them all, the women he loved, their bodies still slick from the memory of what they'd done. And then, from beyond the treehouse, came the sound of laughter - soft, musical, undeniably female. Zoey. Grace. Stella. Natalie. Already awake. Already moving. The others had risen early, and the rhythm of their footsteps above and below shifted like a dance.
Jude eased out from under the sheets carefully. Lucy stirred, her fingers tightening around his wrist for a second before releasing. She didn't wake.
