Chapter 67: Flix and Chill *
Sophie stayed curled against his chest for a long time after, one leg thrown over his. The sheets were a mess, twisted around their hips, and the apartment smelled like sex and the faint leftover steam from the shower.
Ryan’s hand rested on her ass, thumb stroking slow, and neither of them said much.
The city hummed outside the window – cars, distant sirens, the usual Monday afternoon noise – but inside it felt like the whole day had slowed down just for them.
Eventually Sophie lifted her head, chin on his sternum, and gave him that small, satisfied smirk. "I should probably let you get some actual work done at some point."
Ryan laughed under his breath. "Yeah? You gonna leave me to the investment paperwork after all that?"
"Never said I was leaving yet." She kissed his chest once, then rolled off him, stretching like a cat. Naked, hair still damp and messy, she looked good enough that he almost pulled her back down.
Instead he sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and grabbed a pair of clean sweats from the chair.
"Food first," he said. "I’m starving. You want eggs or should we just order something?"
Sophie padded after him into the kitchen, still completely naked, stealing one of his t-shirts from the back of a chair and tugging it on. It barely covered her ass.
"Eggs. I’ll help. But only if you promise not to burn them like last time you made some."
"Last time was your fault. You distracted me."
She grinned, hopping up to sit on the counter while he pulled out eggs, butter, cheese. "I’m gonna distract you again if you keep looking at me like that."
They cooked together in a easy, half-naked way – Sophie cracking eggs while he chopped peppers and onions, bumping hips on purpose, her stealing bites of cheese straight from his fingers.
The pan hissed when he poured everything in, and the smell of melting butter filled the apartment. Ryan stood behind her at the stove, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder while they watched the eggs set.
"Smells good," she said, leaning back into him.
"You smell better." He kissed the side of her neck, hand sliding under the hem of the t-shirt to cup her bare ass.
She hummed, pushing back against him, but the eggs needed flipping so he behaved. For now.
They ate at the kitchen table like normal people – forks clinking, her legs tangled with his under the table, talking about nothing important.
She told him about some ridiculous legal email she’d handled yesterday, he complained about the latest batch of investment docs Sophie had sent over for signatures.
It felt domestic in a way that still surprised him sometimes. Sitting here with his assistant and designer-turned-whatever-this-was, eating scrambled eggs.
After breakfast they migrated to the couch. Sophie grabbed the remote and started scrolling through movies. "Something mindless. No plot. I’m not in the mood for thinking."
"Action?" Ryan suggested, pulling her legs across his lap.
"Or comedy. That new one with the guy from the thing – wait, this one. Looks stupid enough."
They picked some dumb buddy-cop movie that had been out for a couple weeks. The opening credits rolled while Sophie stretched out, head in his lap, one hand idly playing with the drawstring of his sweats.
Ten minutes in she was laughing at a bad joke, and Ryan’s fingers were in her hair, combing through the damp strands. By the twenty-minute mark her hand had slipped inside his sweats, stroking him slow and lazy while the movie played on.
"Sophie," he warned, half-laughing, voice already rough.
"What? I’m watching the movie." But she didn’t stop. She tugged his sweats down just enough, leaned over, and took him into her mouth right there on the couch – slow, wet, no rush, like she was just killing time between scenes.
Ryan’s head fell back against the cushion, one hand on the back of her head, the other still holding the remote like an idiot.
She sucked him deep and easy, tongue swirling, humming around him every time something funny happened on screen.
It wasn’t frantic; it was almost casual, like sucking his dick during a movie was the most normal thing in the world. When he came she swallowed without missing a beat, wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, and went right back to watching like nothing happened.
"Well damn," Ryan muttered.
They finished the movie tangled together, her t-shirt rucked up around her waist, his hand between her legs rubbing slow circles until she came quietly against his fingers during the credits.
After that they played games.
Ryan dug out the old PlayStation from the TV stand – something he hadn’t touched since before the system changed his life.
They loaded up a fighting game.
"Ready to lose?" she asked, grabbing a controller and curling up cross-legged on the couch.
"You talk a lot of shit for someone who’s about to get destroyed."
They played three rounds. She won the first two, trash-talking the whole time – "Come on, boss, that was pathetic" – until he finally got one win by spamming the same cheap move over and over. Sophie threw a pillow at his head. "Cheater."
"Skill issue," he said, grinning.
She tackled him sideways onto the couch, controllers clattering to the floor.
They wrestled for a minute, laughing, until the wrestling turned into kissing, hands roaming.
Ryan ended up on his back with Sophie straddling him again, riding him slow and deep right there on the couch while the game menu music looped in the background.
No rush this time – just her hands on his chest, his on her hips, both of them breathing each other in, eyes locked. She came first, forehead pressed to his, then he followed, pulling her down tight as he spilled inside her.
They stayed like that for a while, catching their breath, the game still paused on the TV.
Later they cooked again – actual dinner this time. Sophie insisted on pasta because "you have literally nothing else in the fridge that isn’t eggs." Ryan boiled the water while she chopped garlic and opened a jar of sauce.
They bumped into each other on purpose in the small kitchen, her stealing kisses between stirs, him grabbing her waist every time she walked past.
At one point she dropped to her knees right there by the stove, sucked him off quick and filthy while the water boiled over, then stood up like it was nothing and kept cooking.
"You’re actually insane," he said, voice wrecked, zipping himself back up.
"You love it."
They ate on the couch this time, plates balanced on their laps, some random Netflix show playing low.
Conversation drifted easy – work stuff, Diana, a couple jokes about Mike and Danny.
Sophie told him she’d already scheduled the next accountant interview for Thursday.
The sun started dipping lower, golden light stretching long across the floor.
They played one more round of the fighting game – Sophie won again, obviously – and then just lay there, her head on his chest, his fingers in her hair. No sex this time. Just breathing together, the city getting darker outside.
Eventually she sat up, stretched, and glanced at the window. The sky had gone that deep blue that meant evening was here for real.
"I should head out," she said, not sounding like she wanted to. "Got an early call with the legal firm tomorrow."
Ryan nodded, thumb brushing her knee. "Stay for one more coffee?"
She smiled, soft. "If I stay for coffee I’m never leaving."
They got up anyway. Sophie found her clothes scattered across the apartment – trousers still damp from earlier, top wrinkled, heels by the door. She dressed slow, like she was putting off the moment, while Ryan pulled on a hoodie and walked her to the door.
At the threshold she turned, hands on his chest, looking up at him. "Today was... exactly what I needed."
"Me too," he said. He kissed her once, slow and deep, then again, lighter. "Text me when you get home."
"Bossy." But she was smiling.
She stepped into the hallway, heels clicking, and gave him one last look over her shoulder. "Don’t stay up too late thinking about me."
"Too late for that."
The door clicked shut behind her. Ryan stood there for a minute, listening to her footsteps fade down the hall, then walked back into the quiet apartment.
The lights were low, the pasta pan still in the sink, controllers on the coffee table, the faint smell of her still in the air.
The day had stretched long and easy – cooking, movies, games, random moments of her mouth on him or him inside her, all of it wrapped around the kind of closeness they didn’t need to name out loud.
He grabbed a beer from the fridge, dropped onto the couch, and turned the TV back on to some random channel.
The city lights were starting to flicker on outside the window, the sky fully dark now. Sophie was probably halfway down the block by now, heels clicking on the sidewalk, hair still a little messy from his hands.
Ryan took a long sip, leaned back, and smiled to himself.