I follow her over. It moves through me slow and consuming and stronger than I’m prepared for. My forehead drops to hers. Her name leaves my mouth like something sacred. We staytangled together in the aftermath, breathing ragged, neither of us moving, neither of us speaking.
Her fingers trace slow patterns along my spine. I press my lips to her temple. Her cheek. The corner of her mouth. She smiles against the last one. She curls against me, warm and loose from our joining, resting her head on my chest like it belongs there. My arm is wrapped around her, fingers tracing lazy patterns along her back without thinking.
I stare at the ceiling for a long moment, breathing slowing, heart still feeling a little too full. This feels different. So different from anyone else I’ve ever been with. It’s not wild. Not reckless. But it feels right. Like this is how it’s supposed to feel, and I had no idea.
Her leg shifts slightly over mine, a sleepy sigh leaving her lips as she settles closer. A smile pulls at my mouth. I don’t move. I don’t want to break whatever this is. Eventually her breathing deepens, steady and even. Sleep pulls me under as well, the weight of her against me grounding in a way I’m not used to. The last thing I remember is the quiet realization that I don’t want her anywhere else.
I wake before the sun fully fills the room. For a second I don’t move, not sure what pulled me awake. Then I feel her. Warm against my side. She’s still here. She didn’t leave. Didn’t go back to her room. My chest tightens in a way that feels suspiciously like happiness.
Soft morning light spills across the bed, catching in her hair. She’s half curled toward me, one hand resting lightly against my ribs like she fell asleep reaching for me. I watch her for a long moment. I’ve woken up next to plenty of women. None of them have ever felt like this. There’s no rush to leave. No awkwardness creeping in. No instinct to put distance between us. Just quiet peace. Contentment settles low in my chest.
Carefully, I brush a strand of hair away from her face. She stirs slightly, nose scrunching, and I smile despite myself. Her eyes blink open. For a second she looks confused. Then she smiles. It’s small and sleepy and fucking beautiful.
“Morning,” she whispers.
“Morning.”
Neither of us moves to separate. She shifts closer instead, tucking herself against me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My arm tightens around her automatically. Sunlight warms the room. The city outside hasn’t fully woken yet. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for anything else.
I’m exactly where I want to be.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Quinn
Daylight
Taylor Swift
I blink awake slowly,sunlight warm against my face. For a second I don’t move, caught somewhere between sleep and memory until I feel him. Mikey’s hand brushes gently across my cheek, fingertips tucking a strand of hair away. The touch is so soft it almost feels like a dream.
My eyes open fully. He’s watching me. And he’s not trying to hide it. The look on his face steals my breath, it’s soft, almost reverent, like he’s seeing something fragile he doesn’t want to disturb.
“Morning,” I whisper, my voice rough with sleep.
His mouth curves. “Morning.”
The memory of last night floods in all at once; warmth, laughter, the way everything finally fell into place and I feel my cheeks heat. But there’s no awkwardness in the air. No hesitation. Just a peaceful calm.
I shift closer without thinking, tucking myself against him, and his arm tightens around me immediately. Like it belongsthere. Like this is the most natural thing in the world. The city outside is still quiet, the light soft and golden. For the first time in a long time, I don’t question what I’m supposed to do next. I just feel safe.
We stay like that for a long time. Half talking. Half drifting. His fingers tracing slow, absent patterns along my back while I listen to his heartbeat under my ear. Eventually my stomach betrays me with a loud growl. I groan and hide my face against his chest.
His laughter vibrates under my cheek. “Hungry?”
“Maybe.” I giggle against his skin.
“We could go grab breakfast,” his voice still sleepy. “There’s a place down the street.”
The thought makes something inside me tighten. Outside means people. Noise. Reality. I lift my head. “What if we don’t?”
He blinks. “Don’t?”
“Go out,” I shift and roll over in his arms, propping my head against his pecs. “I kind of don’t want to leave yet.” The words feel vulnerable leaving my mouth, but they’re true. I don’t want the world rushing back in. Not yet.
His expression relaxes instantly. “Okay.” He shrugs, his fingers brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, like it’s the easiest decision in the world. “We stay.” Like it’s not even a question anymore.
I smile. “Maybe we cook together instead?”
