The Father

Chapter 17

How can someone be so beautiful?

This thought repeats in my head over and over again. She's fast asleep, while I've been awake for around twenty minutes. I've gotten up to take a piss, but returned quickly and quietly to my spot in the bed. Since then I haven't taken my eyes off of her, the very pale early morning light that com es in through the windows puts her in a slight haze.

She looks peaceful. Her hair is wild and thick and covers the pillow her head is resting on. I stare at her enough when she's awake, but now I can really look at her closely. All I'm doing is finding more reasons to think she's breathtakingly beautiful, not that I needed anymore. The shape of her lips, so plump and soft and kissable. Her eyebrows are perfectly manicured, she's told me that she gets them waxed once every couple of weeks. I love her hands, I focus on her right one, because her left one and part of her arm is shoved beneath the pillow. Her fingers are slender and long and her nails are just as perfectly manicured as her brows. They're good for stroking me, for wrapping around my cock, but I love to watch her do something as simple as going through her phone or turning the page of a magazine or guiding a fork to her mouth.

I can't see anything below her neck, but even the base of her throat is sexy to me. I love the little dip, I want to kiss it, stroke it with my tongue, rest the tips of my fingers against it. But I can't touch her, I don't want to wake her, I just want to keep staring at her like this. I'm completely and totally satisfied with watching her sleep.

"I love you," I mutter.

What is she dreaming about? Is she dreaming? I wish I could see what goes on inside of her head, read her mind. It's obvious she loves me, but I'd like to know exactly how she feels about me. I've just got to trust that she loves me as much as I love her.

She stirs suddenly, sighs quietly, and opens her eyes. I smile warmly and she slowly returns it, then buries her face against the pillow.

"What time is it?"

I look at the clock that sits on the nightstand.

"Almost seven."

"Hm, it's early. How long have you been awake?"

"I don't know, maybe forty minutes or so."

She looks back to me.

"What have you been doing?"

"Watching you sleep."

Her smile grows and I wrap my arms around her, kiss her hair, forehead, and lips, and we are face to face.

"You're so beautiful when you sleep. And when you've just woken up."

She chuckles and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sure I look gross. And my breath probably doesn't smell great."

I lean close and inhale, which makes her giggle. It smells of almost nothing, but it certainly doesn't smell bad. I already brushed my teeth just to be sure I didn't have morning breath.

"I like the smell of your breath."

"You're weird."

"You make me weird. I like this, too."

Now I touch the base of her throat, run my fingers along her skin, across her collar bone, and softly kiss the dip.

"Mm. I love it, actually."

She runs her fingers slowly through my hair, then wraps her arms around my body. We're right against each other, her body is warm and comforting, and she rests her head against my chest. I hold her there, soaking in this moment. Tomorrow we'll wake up together again, but after that who knows when the next time will be? I'll be back at work, as busy as I always am, and know I won't be able to spend the night with her.