CASH
IWAKE UP before the alarm.
She’s asleep, her body tucked into mine. Every curve aligns with my own. One arm drapes over my waist, and her hair loosely tangles against my chest and the pillow.
For a moment, I let myself pretend this is how my mornings start. That there isn’t a clock ticking somewhere in the room, counting down the space between us.
I don’t move.
I don’t even breathe right.
I just look at her, because I need to store this away—like one of her photographs.
Frame it.
Lock it.
Save it.
This moment is quiet, and I only feel this peace and calm when I’m with her. The certainty that she’s the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
But I can’t.
Not now.
She needs this time to find herself, and I won’t be the one to take it from her.
And it hurts. Leaving her fucking hurts, deep in my chest. In places I didn’t know existed until now.
I smooth her hair back with my finger and kiss the side of her head.
“You’re awake.” Her breath is warm against my chest. “Is it already morning?” Her sleep-rough voice vibrates through me.
God, I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could go back to the hours we spent awake last night in each other’s arms. I wish it were her waking me again to spend another hour making love.
“It is.” I trace the line of her shoulder with my thumb, memorizing the slope and the way she leans into my touch.
Her skin is warm, silky, still smelling like soap, sleep, and sex.
“But you sleep, and I’ll pop back after my class.”
“No.” She stretches her warm, naked body against mine.
Her thigh slides over mine. The sheets rustle and the mattress dips ever so slightly.
Shit.
It feels so good. She feels so damn good.
Her hair brushes my chin. I breathe her in. Vanilla shampoo. Sweet. Warm.
Vanilla will never smell the same again.
From now on, it’s her.
Every cupcake.
Every cake.
