She’s snoring softly when we pull into my driveway, and I don’t care if all we do is sleep tonight. I’m content to just holdher while she sleeps. I put my hand on her thigh to shake her gently.
“Seraphine,” I say softly, but she doesn’t respond. I repeat her name, this time a little louder. “Seraphine.”
Still nothing.
I get out of the car and move around to the other side to open her door. She rolls her head away from me, sucking in a sharp breath. I undo her seatbelt and scoop her into my arms, using my hip to close the door. Her arms come around my neck, her face nuzzling into my neck. A soft hum leaves her.
I manage to get us into the house without dropping her and go right upstairs to put her in my bed. I get her comfortable and completely naked before putting one of my t-shirts on her. She sleeps through the entire thing. When I’m done, I watch her for a moment to make sure she’s okay. She’s breathing fine, and she’s a normal color. Probably just tired and drank a lot. I go back downstairs to lock up and get a bottle of water for her. I leave it on the bedside table that has become hers, since she’s always on that side of the bed when she’s here. If she needs pain killers in the morning, I’ll get them for her then. For now, I get undressed, slip on a pair of pajama pants, and get into bed with her.
Blindly, I swipe my hand across my bed to find it cold. Opening my eyes, the bright sun filters in through my curtains, shiningover my bed. Myemptybed. I sit up, looking around the room. Also empty. The bottle of water I left on the end table is gone. The only hint that Seraphine is still here is the clothes I got her out of last night are right where I left them, draped over the armchair. So, I go in search of her, the thought of her roaming around my house naked is tempting. The way I find her is so much better.
Her back is to me as she stands at the stove, cooking something that smells delicious. She’s wearing the t-shirt of mine I put her in, that’s big enough to fit her like a too-short skirt. The bottoms of her ass cheeks poke out just enough to tease me. Her hair is up in a messy knot at the top of her head, and she’s swaying as if dancing to a song only she can hear.
I stand there, watching her for an indecent amount of time, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t make my feet move. I want to go to her, touch her, kiss her. But watching her, seeing her like this with the morning shine gleaming over her, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She turns around before I get a chance to go to her. Her face brightens the minute she lays eyes on me.
“Morning,” she says with a raspy voice.
“Morning,” I manage to get out.
My chest aches, and fuck… I think I love her.
It’s a fleeting thought. Also a jarring one. But it’s there now. Niggling at me, wanting me to give it attention. Still, I push it away and go to her, needing to touch her now.
I kiss her everywhere I can, touching everywhere I can, until she’s fighting me off, complaining that the food will burn.
Begrudgingly, I let her go and finally take a look at what she’s making. In one pan, there’s French Toast lined up. In a saucepan is some red liquid that’s simmering and smells sweet. Some sort of fruit sauce?
“What in the world is this?” I ask. “Where did you get everything to make this?”
“I had it delivered.”
“Delivered?” I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly eleven. I never sleep this late. “How long have you been awake?”
“A little before seven.”
“On a weekend?”
She lets out a little laugh. “I know, it’s weird. But whenever I drink that much, I sleep so heavily that I’m rested enough to get up early.”
“That is weird,” I agree, then move to the coffee pot and find there’s already some made, so I pour a cup. I make a face after a swallow and hear Seraphine giggling. “What is this?” I point to the cup.
“It’s coffee,” she answers smartly.
“What kind of coffee?” I put the cup down and move to her as she flips a French Toast.
“Hazelnut.”
“Is this something you ordered this morning as well?” I kiss her neck.
“Mhm,” she answers, turning off the burner on the stove.
“And what will I do with the rest of it?”
She turns in my arms, putting her hands on my hips. So small, soft, warm.
“Guess I’ll just have to come here more often to drink it.”
