[Previously title Marigold and Sunflowers]
He thought she was a sinful angel of temptation, but the most annoying one.
She thought he was an arrogant, mannerless asshole sculpted to make her knees go weak.
Ivy Marigold Taylor, an intelligent, down...
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When I woke up I slowly started to feel guilty, the more I gained consciousness, that I neglected to tell Carter I was a bad sleeper.
I was laying on my side against Carter, his arm under my head playing as a pillow while my leg was thrown over his lower waist with his hand cupping under my lower thigh.
"Good morning." I hear a raspy, deep voice beside me, and I smile as I feel his fingers draw patterns on my thigh.
"Good morning." I reply softly, looking at him through hooded eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was a bad sleeper, hope I didn't hit you in my sleep." I said sheepishly.
His hand moves from my thigh and to my hair as he fiddles with the hair I put into two braids before bed. "You're not a bad sleeper, you're a terrible sleeper. You kicked me in my side last night." He grumbles with a yawn, but he didn't seem that bothered.
I stretch sitting up as my arms extended above my head and a yawn forced itself out of me, "My bad. I truly hope you can overcome such a traumatic experience." I said faintly looking at him over my shoulder.
I gasp when he pulls me back to lie down before hooking his hand under my thigh and pulling me to straddle his lap.
Resting my hands on his chest I push myself up, glaring at him, "Do you just enjoy manhandling me or do it to give me a minor heart attack?"
"It's one of my guilty pleasures." He shrugs, his calloused hands running up and down my thigh before slipping under his shirt I'm wearing, and grabbing ahold of my hips.
"I can only imagine you in bed." I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
"Why imagine when you can experience it?" He quirks an eyebrow with a small smirk on his face.
"We'll see," I hum gently tracing my finger down the curve of his nose, "but first I have to get home so I can get ready for work."
I glance at the clock at his bedside table checking the time.
His hands on my hips tighten as if he was trying to hold me still, "Can you stay for a little while? Let me make you breakfast."
"I don't really eat breakfast." I said my fingers trailing the subtle dip between his pecs.
"Why? It's the most important meal of the day." He scoffs.
I smile at him, "I don't want to be late, so let's make up for the breakfast with a lunch date." I suggest, lightly drawing patterns on his warm skin.
"We can do breakfast now and a lunch date later." He states.
I tilt my head looking at him unsure, "Hmm, you offer a hard bargain." I said teasingly as if I was pondering.
"I want to spend some more time with you, girasole." He gently grasp my hand that was on his chest bringing it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on the palm of my hand.
