I woke up the way I'd been waking up more often than not lately—not to an alarm, not to sunlight creeping in through the blinds, but to her.
The first thing I felt was heat. Not the kind that made you throw the blanket off, but the kind that seeps into your skin and makes you want to stay there forever. A weight pressed lightly against my chest, soft, steady, breathing in ti with mine.
I blinked awake to find an arm thrown lazily over and a head of dark brown hair spilling across my shoulder. Celestia. Of course.
Her lashes brushed my shirt as she stirred, murmuring sothing against that I couldn't quite catch. Then, before I could even think about shifting, her lips pressed to my cheek.
"Morning, husband," she whispered, voice roughened with sleep, but still sweet enough to pull a smile out of .
"Morning," I mumbled back, half-asleep myself.
You're probably wondering why she was here at all, curled up in my bed on a Wednesday morning when she had her own place to be. The truth? Last night after dinner, she'd whined about being too full to move, let alone drive ho. Said she'd explode on the way if she even tried.
And sure, it sounded ridiculous, but I knew what she wasn't saying. So I didn't argue. I just let her stay.
Now here she was, wrapped around like she belonged here more than anywhere else.
I tried to move, stretching out the stiffness in my back, but her arm tightened instantly.
"No," she said, eyes still closed, her voice soft but carrying that little stubborn edge she never quite lost. "Stay. Just a little longer."
"Val," I sighed, tilting my head toward her. "We've got classes. It's Wednesday."
"I know," she murmured, finally cracking one eye open. It glinted mischievously as her lips curved upward. "But missing one class won't kill us."
I gave her my best unimpressed look, though it probably wasn't very convincing considering how comfortable I was under her. "Still," I muttered.
That was when she moved.
Her hand slipped beneath the blanket, dragging slowly down my stomach, the touch deliberate, teasing, before dipping lower.
Every muscle in went rigid.
"Val…" I said, warning in my tone, but it ca out weaker than I wanted.
She didn't even let finish. Her lips caught mine in a kiss—soft, slow, the kind that tasted like morning and trouble at the sa ti. By the ti she pulled back, her hand hadn't budged.
"Let's skip today," she whispered against my mouth, smile dangerous.
A sound escaped —half gasp, half groan—and I wasn't proud of it. "Val… that's—"
"Not fair?" she finished for , squeezing just enough to shut up. "All's fair in love and war, husband."
Her grin was pure mischief, her eyes daring to argue. I tried to co up with sothing—anything—that would put back on the winning side of this little battle. Nothing ca. Just a rush of heat and the quiet thrum of her heartbeat pressed against mine.
Finally, I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly. "Fine," I muttered, defeated. "You win."
Her triumphant "Yay!" was followed by the imdiate retreat of her hand, as if she'd only wanted the victory, not the actual war. She curled back into my side, head tucking beneath my chin like none of it had even happened.
I stared at the ceiling, utterly betrayed by how easily she dismantled before breakfast.
Apparently, my Wednesday was already off to a fantastic start.
---
We stayed like that for a while—her curled against , staring at the ceiling, half-dozing in the warmth she carried with her. The apartnt was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional car passing by outside. It should've been boring. Mundane. But with her breathing steady against my chest, it felt like sothing else entirely.
"Val," I said finally, voice softer than I ant, like I wasn't sure if I even wanted her to hear it.
"Mhm?" Her reply ca muffled, lips brushing my shirt. She didn't move, didn't even bother opening her eyes.
I swallowed. My throat felt dry. "Could you… maybe…" I trailed off, fumbling, suddenly hating how clumsy my words sounded.
Her brows furrowed faintly, though her eyes stayed shut. "Maybe what?"
I shifted under her, heart doing sothing embarrassing in my chest. "Touch ," I blurted, then imdiately regretted how blunt it ca out. My ears burned.
For a second, silence stretched. Then her lips curved into the kind of smirk I could feel even without seeing it.
"Sorry, husband," she murmured lazily. "Didn't quite catch that. Could you say it again?"
My jaw clenched. "Val…"
She kept her eyes closed, the smirk only growing. "Say it one more ti."
I groaned, throwing my head back against the pillow. "You're impossible."
Her laugh—soft and light—spilled out. "So you really did say it."
I turned my head, glaring at her while she still had hers buried against like she hadn't just lit on fire.
"This is your fault," I muttered.
Her lashes fluttered as she finally cracked an eye open, amusent dancing there. "My fault?"
"Yes. You're the one who started touching earlier."
She gasped theatrically, hand pressed to her chest like I'd accused her of sothing scandalous. "Excuse you, I was only holding what belongs to ."
"Val—"
She grinned wide, eyes closing again like she had the upper hand and knew it. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law, husband."
I groaned louder, running a hand down my face. "Unbelievable."
Her grin softened into sothing more playful. "Alright, alright. Don't pout."
"I'm not pouting."
> "You are."
I rolled onto my side to glare at her properly. "If you hadn't touched it, it wouldn't have gotten hard."
The words were out before I could stop them. They hung heavy in the air between us, too raw, too unfiltered. My stomach dropped.
Her eyes flew open, and for once, she was the one caught off guard.
"Bold," she said after a beat, lips twitching into a grin.
Heat flooded my face. "Forget I said that."
"Too late." Her voice dropped low, teasing. Then her smirk tilted wicked. "Besides… just so you know—it was already hard. Morning boner, rember?"
I groaned into my hands, dragging them down my face. "Val…"
Her laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained, and it only made my ears burn hotter.
"That's it," I muttered, swinging my legs off the bed. "I'm taking a shower."
Before I could stand fully, her hand shot out, catching mine.
"Wait, wait—sorry," she said quickly, her lips curving even though her tone tried to sound apologetic. "Sorry, husband. I'm sorry."
I glanced down at her, unimpressed.
She bit her lip, still smiling despite herself. "Okay, okay. I really sorry. Don't be mad."
I wasn't, not really. But I stayed rooted there, refusing to sit, just to make a point.
She patted the mattress beside her. "Co on. Sit."
I raised a brow.
"Please?" she added, tilting her head, all sweetness now.
With a sigh, I gave in, sinking back onto the bed beside her. Her triumph was instant—her smile broke out again, soft and smug all at once.
"So," she said, leaning toward , eyes gleaming. "Tell exactly what you want."
My head snapped toward her, heat flooding back into my face.
She giggled, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God, the look on your face. My grumpy husband is mad at again."
"I'm not mad," I muttered, though my expression probably said otherwise.
She only giggled harder, looping her arms around my neck like she'd won sothing. "Yes, you are."
"I'm not."
Her grin widened. "You are. Your eyebrows are doing that thing."
I blinked. "What thing?"
She reached up and pressed her fingertip to my forehead, squinting in mock seriousness. "That. The angry-husband furrow. Very intimidating. Zero out of ten. Wouldn't recomnd."
I groaned, tilting my head back against the wall. "You're impossible."
"And you love ," she shot back without hesitation, smug like she'd pulled the trump card.
My jaw tightened, lips pressed in a flat line. "Unfortunately."
"Not unfortunately," she corrected, tugging at my collar with a smug little grin. "Very fortunately. For you."
I let out a sharp exhale, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. "Remind again why I put up with you?"
"Because I'm cute." She said it so matter-of-factly it was almost funny. Almost. Then she tilted her head, eyes fluttering half-shut, lashes catching the light in that way she absolutely knew would wreck . "And because you can't say no to ."
"You're overconfident."
"I'm right," she countered sweetly.
I opened my mouth, but she cut off with a quick peck to the tip of my nose. Then another to my cheek. Then the corner of my jaw. By the ti her lips grazed the corner of mine, I was no longer sure if my hands were supposed to push her away or pull her closer.
"Val," I warned. Except it ca out softer than I intended, the kind of warning no one takes seriously.
"Yes, husband?" she murmured against my skin, smug.
"Don't."
She smirked, eyes still closed. "Don't what?"
"You know what."
"Hmm." She tapped her chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Nope. Don't think I do."
I groaned. "Val—"
"Relax," she whispered, brushing her lips feather-light over mine but not quite kissing . "I'm only teasing."
"Exactly my point," I muttered, though my voice had gone rough.
> "Then tell to stop."
She said it like she already knew I wouldn't. And she was right.
Her laughter softened, quieting into sothing gentler as she looped her arms tighter around my neck. The smug curve of her mouth eased into a slower smile. Then she leaned in, brushing her lips against mine—a soft press, lingering, before pulling back just enough to whisper, "You know you make it too easy, right?"
I exhaled, trying for composure. "Or maybe you're just too much."
Her grin widened, playful but edged with sothing warr. "I'll take that as a complint."
The shift in her was subtle, but I felt it. The giggles lted into silence, the teasing replaced with sothing steadier. Her gaze lingered, sultry in the dim light of the room. And when she kissed again, it wasn't playful. It was deeper—intentional. Her lips moved with purpose, drawing in, her hand sliding back down with familiar mischief that made my pulse stumble.
I froze for a second, every nerve lit, then lted into her, my thoughts tangling as fast as my heartbeat.
And sowhere in that haze, one thing rooted itself clear—
I might have missed class today. She might've pushed every button I had until I was ready to lose it. But lying here, her laughter tangled with mine, her chaos spilling into every quiet corner of —sohow, it felt better than anything else.
Maybe that was love. Being annoyed on purpose, over and over, and still wanting nothing more than to stay.
---
To be continued...
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