We get dropped off at my house, kick our shoes off, and collapse on the bed without even turning off the lamps. It’s early, but we’ve partied all day. Silvie curls into my side and rests her head on my chest.
“I wish you were really my husband,” she whispers as she drifts off to sleep.
I close my eyes to hear that. Me too.
I lie there for a while, listening to her breathe, feeling the weight of what we’ve done settle into the new reality we are living in.
She’s here in my arms. And for now, that’s enough.
I sleep better than I have in years. Even after a day of drinking, that was a ton of fun. Our wedding day. It’s crazy to think we’re married.
Silvie is curled into my side, one arm draped over my chest, her leg thrown over mine, warm and grounding. My cock is rock hard and painful as it’s been every day since I met her. And I need to probably go shower and do something about that.
I don’t want to move and risk waking her, so I just lie here, listening to her breathe.
She sighs softly and tucks her face into my chest, and my palm spreads, holding her, feeling protective of her without even giving it a thought.
Yeah. This is dangerous.
Eventually, the light shifts, and I know the sun is about ready to come up. She stirs and blinks awake.
“Morning,” I murmur.
She hums instead of answering, closing her eyes, her mouth curving into a lazy smile. Then she blinks her eyes open again and freezes.
“Oh,” she says.
“Good oh or bad oh?” I ask curiously.
She lifts her head just enough to look at me, her hair wild, face soft. “Good oh. I thought I was just dreaming. It turns out you’re real.”
Relief floods me. I want to bring up what she said last night. I want to ask her if she wants to be real with me. I want to so badly. But something in me says not to push it.
She smiles again. “I slept really, really good.”
“Me, too.”
“No, you don’t understand. Something about you is just so calming to me,” she explains.
I understand this completely.
We don’t rush to get up, and we linger, me tracing her shoulder, her holding me, not addressing the elephant in the room, which is my hard, throbbing cock that I’m desperately trying not to think about.
Eventually, she groans. “If we don’t get up now, we’ll miss the sunrise.” She sits up and then says, “Want to help me out of my dress? This time, you don’t have to rip it.”
I laugh and help her unzip her dress.
She turns and grabs clothes. “I’ll be ready in ten! We have to hurry!”
And right then, I realize I don’t ever want to miss a sunrise or sunset with Silvie. I want them all with her.
I’m getting too permanently invested in something that’s supposed to be temporary. If I feel like this the first day in, how will I feel in another month or two?
We’re at the beach twenty minutes later with coffee mugs in our hands, and our other fingers linked together.
The sun starts to rise, seagulls squawking and the waves crashing in front of us.
“This is my favorite part of my day,” she says softly.
