They begged to be torn off.
Ideally, with my teeth.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even remotely fair. Mornings were already difficult enough without having to navigate the world’s worst case of morning wood while lying next to someone like her. Someone who looked innocent in sleep, deceptively sweet,while I was lying there thinking of all the ways I could make her eyes water.
I’d try to distract myself by listing everything I needed to do that day—client calls, briefs I needed to file, a million other obligations waiting at the office—but none of it mattered. Not when Valentina would sigh in her sleep and shift closer, pressing her body against mine like she was trying to kill me before I even got out of bed.
It was a problem.
She was a problem.
But somehow, she was the kind of problem I found myself quietly looking forward to every damn morning.
She shifted onto her side, her back to me. I knew she was doing it on purpose. I knew exactly what she was trying to do, and somehow, I still fell for it anyway. Probably said a lot about my self-control—or lack thereof. Then again, mornings with Valentina had always been a test of restraint.
She pressed herself back against me, and I let out a slow breath against her neck, trying not to lose my mind entirely.
“Careful,” I muttered into her hair.
“Why?” she murmured, that teasing, sleepy tone making my blood rush faster. “Are you in a hurry or something?”
“Yeah,” I said dryly. “Some of us have jobs to get to.”
She hummed gently, wiggling against me as if she were making herself more comfortable. Like she wasn’t actively killing me. She smelled of whatever perfume she’d worn last night, and it felt impossible to resist. Even at 6:00 a.m. on a goddamn Tuesday.
My hand found her hip, tugging her a little tighter against me. A mistake, probably. Definitely. But it was already too late. She made a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, and tilted her head back slightly to look at me over her shoulder.
I slid my hand beneath the waistband of her shorts—the shorts I’d considered personally burning more than once. Shorts that now felt specifically designed to ruin my professional reputation. She arched into the touch, pressing herself firmly back against me until all rational thought was completely erased.
“Still in a hurry?” she asked innocently.
“Shut up,” I said roughly against her ear, but I was smiling. She knew it.
She always knew.
We moved easily after that. She turned her head back, her mouth catching mine, her kiss soft at first, then deeper. She was always surprising that way—gentle one moment, fierce the next—knowing exactly how to draw me in.
It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t slow either. It was exactly the way we’d fallen into each other over the past few weeks. Like this was something we’d been doing far longer than we actually had. Something we knew how to do without thinking, without questioning.
When she finally pressed back into me, I tightened my hand against her hip, feeling her pulse quicken under my fingertips. And when I came, my face buried in her neck, I didn’t think about anything else—no deadlines, no meetings, no carefully planned day ahead—just Valentina, and how goddamn good it felt to wake up next to her.
Now I was barely managing to roll into work half an hour late, tie still loose, shirt probably a little more rumpled than strictly professional, and a stupid, self-satisfied smirk plastered on my face that made my assistant raise her eyebrows every single time.
And it was all Valentina’s fault.
Not that I was complaining. Honestly, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t willingly let myself slip into this routine with her. A routine of her warm, soft, sleepy body pressed up against mine.Of her whispering smart-ass comments in my ear first thing in the morning, pushing me past reason.
It was unfair. Ridiculous, actually, how often she was on my mind. The way she kissed, the way she moved, the way she looked beneath me, above me. Didn’t matter how or where, only that it was her.
I was barely thinking straight, but I wasdefinitelythinking about how she’d ride me, slow at first, torturing me with a smug little smile, like she knew exactly how badly I wanted to fuck her senseless.
And then she’d let go completely, grinding into me, nails dragging down my chest, whispering my name like she belonged entirely to me. It was insane how good it felt to hear my name like that, in that breathless voice of hers. Like she’d forgotten there was anyone else in the entire goddamn world but me.
She was complicated, impossible, chaotic—and yet somehow, everything made sense around her. I wasn’t supposed to want any of this. Wasn’t supposed to get attached. Wasn’t supposed to actually care. I was supposed to be smarter than that.
But here I was, completely addicted.
Not just to her body—though God knows, that was more than enough. It was everything else too. The arguments, the teasing, the quiet moments, the dinners I kept pretending to tolerate but secretly enjoyed. I was losing my grip, losing my control, and the terrifying part was, I couldn’t seem to care.
