And now—like this—I finally can.
Iwakeup before the sun’s fully risen, like I always do. Years of training and coaching don’t exactly lend themselves to sleeping in.
The apartment is quiet, the sky outside still tinged blue-gray. And in my bed—soft, warm, and curled into me like I’m a damn body pillow—is Luke.
He’s facing me, breath soft against my throat, his leg thrown over my hip. His curls are a wild mess, and his lashes flutter just slightly before he sighs in his sleep and shifts even closer.
Then his lips brush my neck.
It’s not purposeful—at first. Just a sleepy nuzzle. But when his hand flexes against my side, his thumb dragging under the hem of my shirt, I know he’s more awake than he’s pretending.
Another kiss. This one intentional.
“Luke,” I murmur.
He grumbles. “Five more minutes.”
“You’re kissing my neck.”
“Exactly.” He presses another lazy kiss against my collarbone. “Let me enjoy it before the cruel world forces me into a vertical position.”
I huff a laugh, tilting my head back against the pillow. “You hate mornings.”
“They’re evil,” he agrees. “But you’re warm, and you smell good, and your heartbeat under my hand is annoyingly comforting, so I’m suffering through.”
I glance down at him. His eyes are still mostly shut, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He’s not fully awake. Not really.
“Okay, five more minutes, you gremlin,” I whisper.
“Mm. You like it.”
I do.
Luke’s hand slides from my chest, down my stomach, fingers brushing the waistband of my boxers. Not low enough to be blatant—but low enough to be deliberate.
My breath catches.
“Luke…”
He hums innocently against my throat. “Thought you said five more minutes.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Too late,” he says, kissing my jaw now. “Your mistake for cuddling me while I’m shirtless.”
My hand shoots out, catching his wrist. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
His lashes finally lift, eyes bleary but wicked. “You’re so dramatic,” he mumbles, voice raspy with sleep. “Want me to go slow, old man? Make sure your heart doesn’t give out?”
I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “You’re not even fully awake.”
“I’m awake enough to know you’re hard.”
He grinds forward just enough to prove his point, and I hiss between my teeth.
“Christ, Luke?—”
He grins. “Close, but I believe the nickname you’re looking for isHermoso,Daddy.”
