I step onto the treadmill instead of answering. He gets on the treadmill beside me.
For the next while, he keeps talking, filling up the space between us with his fast words. He offers to adjust my hips “hands-on, for science,” and the confidence in his voice is so ridiculous I let out some more breathless laughs.
His steps sync with mine, even though I know he could move faster. Guess he’s matching my pace.
My pulse picks up. I’m alive. I’m here. Moving step by step into whatever comes next. That’s what counts.
5
Em
At precisely 5:59 a.m., I open my eyes before my alarm has the chance to make a sound. My internal clock rarely fails me. It’s efficient and far less disruptive than the chime Idris insisted we keep, which I’ve interpreted as his way of saying that he requires an alarm to wake him up.
Smiling at how Idris’ mind works, I turn to face him, and I don’t plan to move for a full minute. I allow myself to watch him before the alarm rings.
Idris is still asleep beside me. His beautiful face is fully at ease. His hand rests on my waist.
There’s a small hitch in his breathing when the digital alarm vibrates on my nightstand, but it’s too faint to wake him. I reach over and tap the button to snooze it.
He prefers sleeping in. I don’t. He prefers joining me in the shower, ever since we began sharing a bed. I’m sure the snoozed alarm will wake him then.
I sit up, and as I leave my bed, I spot the roses he brought in. They brighten the space. Their scent sits lightly in the air. Breathing in roses and Idris, I walk to the washroom.
A while later, the alarm chimes again. Idris stirs this time, groaning.
I smile, stepping into the shower and turning the knob to the optimal temperature. Not too cold for me, but not too hot for Idris. I hear him moving, his feet padding across the floor, closer to me. Soon, the shower door slides open.
“Morning,” he mumbles.
I nod, washing my hair with my back turned to him. His arms wrap around my waist from behind. He nuzzles into my hair.
“Let me wash you this morning, Em.” His hands slide up my ribs. His touch catalogues as much as it indulges. “Will you let me, please?”
“Idris…”
I turn to face him. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, sharpen with attention.
The water drenches us in perfect temperature. But it’s Idris who makes heat rise through me.
I should step back. But I don’t. Instead, I lift my chin a fraction. His gaze drops to my mouth, then his hands grip onto my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
“This is unfair, Em.”
“On what grounds?”
“You’re in kissing range,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth along my jaw, “but you won’t kiss me.”
“We might be late to the morning meeting,” I say, yet I don’t move.
“One kiss, then I’ll wash you fast and efficiently, Em.”
It’s as if he’s speaking my language. Before I can argue, his lips land on mine. My knees weaken in an instant as his fingers trace my spine.
After stealing the breath from my lungs, he proves unexpectedly efficient in washing me. His hands move with purpose, though he lingers in places that pull soft sounds from my lips before I can suppress them.
When we finish and step out, I dress quickly. Idris buttons his shirt while watching me. Once we’re presentable, we leave my quarters and walk toward where we’d find Darius.
We enter the captain’s cabin to find him there, bent over metal parts spread across the table. He studies them methodically, fingers tracing grooves. His brows pull together when he notices us.
