“Where else would I be, Tiny Dancer?” He asks so earnestly I wonder if I made up the whole thing but no, I saw his expression, I saw his pain.
“But Sebastian…”
“Please, don’t,” He croaks, “I can’t.”
“What do you want, Killian?” I ask him gently.
“I want to lie with you,” He whispers, “Can I lie with you?”
He chose me. He’s here, he chose me.
“Yeah,” I breathe, pulling back the sheets on the other side of the mattress. He expels a breath, and his shoes tap against the floor as he crosses the short space to me and then I listen to the rustle of his clothes as he undresses.
His skin is warm when he finally lays himself down onto the bed, turning to me immediately.
The brush of his fingers against my skin startles me in the dark, so gentle as he sweeps away a tendrilof hair that had fallen across my face.
My breath stutters from me as he trails that hand down my face, to my jaw and then my throat, following the curve of my shoulder until he flattens his palm against my spine. He applies pressure and draws me in close, tucking my head under his chin as he wraps me up into him, curling himself around me until legs and arms are tangled, our hearts beating against each other’s.
Sleep comes easier now, like my body is happy to shut down, the weight of Killian’s arms and the feel of his breathing like a lullaby.
I wake to the sun beaming through my curtainless windows, my cheek resting on Killian’s chest as his fingers stroke delicately up my spine. He’s still, breathing soft, content but he’s clearly awake.
Tilting my chin up, I see him staring toward the ceiling.
“Good morning,” I rasp, sleep edging my tone.
He flicks his eyes down to me, the edges of them creasing just a little, “Good morning.”
“Did you sleep?” I ask, shifting so I can look up at him more comfortably.
He laughs on an inhale, forcing it to be more breath than sound, “Yes.”
“Why is that funny?” I go to move onto my elbowso I can look at him better, but he curls his hand over my arm, keeping me in place.
He shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter, did you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” I grin up at him, “But I think I really need a bed.”
He smiles, a full bright smile that shows teeth and lights up his face, “You think? How long were you planning on sleeping on the floor?”
I lift a shoulder lazily, “It was only me here.”
“I’m going to need a bed,” He grumbles, “We’ll go shopping today.”
“Wait,” I bolt up suddenly, dislodging his hand, “You’re going to come?”
“Why not?”
“Well…” I trail off, “Okay.”
“Get up,” He moves his hand down my spine and taps my ass, “Let’s go.”
I’m finding it incredibly difficult not to get attached to this idea of us. The easy, comfortable motion in which we move together. It’s jarring, going from one extreme to the other and yet it feels natural.
There’s heartbreak on the horizon, I’m sure of it but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to skip toward it, like a naïve little girlhoping I’m wrong.
I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom to prepare for the day, changing into a pair of black oversized jeans and a white cropped tee since the weather has taken a bit of a turn. I pull my hair into a pony and apply a small amount of make up before I head downstairs, finding Killian sipping a coffee at the kitchen counter.
