tea stained newpapers. mileven au.

thirty.

CHAPTER THIRTY:
WAY WITH WORDS.
EL'S POV.

the idea of waking up next to the person who makes you safe has always felt foreign to el. especially since the concept hadn't ever been expressed so normally in her life before.

her parents never slept together after sara passed away. it seemed almost forbidden at the time, the thought of even embarking on something that intimate so fragile and icy cold, as if being whole after an awful incident like losing a child was foul.

like it was disturbing.

but now, as she laid with her nose tucked into the dip of mike wheeler's neck, her doe eyes wandering across his relaxed features as his steady breathing echoed throughout his content yet cold bedroom... she couldn't imagine life without having something this sweet to wake up to.

he looked so calm sleeping next to her, with his sculpted cheekbones and softened jawline. those pretty unturned lips on full display and so tempting in more ways than she could ever ignore.

a dream even when he was dreaming.

the brunette shifted beneath him, carefully intertwining their legs just a bit tighter before propping her chin up on his chest, her mind fluttering back to last nights occurrences.

she would like to say nothing happened, really she would. with her lack of experience with the concept of love, it was hard to ever imagine the things that occurred so effortlessly underneath those sheets in the dim hours lit by the moon.

yet, the proof was already scattered along the column of her throat, reminding her how his teeth sank into the sweet spot right below her ear or how his hands were marking her body in a way that made her feel like she was holy, or quite frankly, unholy in the best way possible.

he was poison, the prettiest mirrorball of lavender colored liquid that soared through her veins and made her insides feel as though they were on burning but also stingingly cold all at once. as if he was toxic, a drug she wouldn't mind getting addicted to.

because it was absolutely impossible to ever get enough of him.

the artist trailed one of her fingers lazily down his chest, hoping to soon feel the movement of him stirring underneath her so she could see those lusty dark orbs again... to hear those most delicate words escape his lips that he had quite the talent of infatuating her with.

you know, although she loved sleeping next to him, there was a small part of her that hated that glimpse of time they spent only in their dreams together.

god, what an awfully absurd attachment issue she had developed for him.

she allowed her nails to skate up his arm and up to his jawline, the palm of her hand fitting perfectly into the hallow of his cheekbone as his peaceful and content breathing continued to not falter underneath her movements.

if there was one thing el certainly will never forget about last night was how flawlessly her and mike seemed to mold together. it was almost terrifying in a way, how their bodies knew exactly what the other was going to do, how in sync their movements were.

it was obsessive, a world of new emotions that neither of them really knew how to control but instead were completely controlled by.