Most windows are high enough it takes effort.
I’m not exactly tall.
But I manage.
I always manage.
The men in my life, him included, obviously, all have that perfect, intoxicating height.
Tall enough that I can press myself against their chests and breathe them in.
Tall enough that when they hold me, I feel small. Precious.
That’s exactly how I want to feel when I wrap myself around him.
But first I need to find out if he deserves me.
I shimmy through.
Drop silently onto his floor.
The scent of him hits me instantly.
Warm spice. Dark wood.
Something deeper, richer.
Unmistakably male.
Fuck.
It’s intoxicating.
I take a deep, greedy breath.
Let it settle into my bones.
A woman should know what her man smells like in the morning.
After all, I’ll be waking up here soon.
I beeline for the bed.
The sheets are smooth. Crisp.
He’s a makes his bed every morning type of man.
The pillow, though?
Soft. Molded to his head.
I lift it to my face and breathe.
God, I could live here.
Maybe I will.
Maybe I’ll tie him down, feed him pirozhki, and make him call me princess in that broken accent.
