King of Harts

32

Emory

I've never slept so well for so long. It was the first time in a while that I didn't get lost in a book for hours on end, sometimes until the sky started to turn bright.

In other words, I slept like a goddamn baby.

Now that I stir awake and attempt to stretch, I'm drenched with realization of the warmth swarming my back, an arm draped over my stomach and that holiday scent surrounding me.

I'm in an Adrian cocoon.

My body tenses up at the memory of last night and how he's here right now, every terrible thought and shred of doubt slowly rebuilding back up inside of me.

My body stills even more when his arm starts to move, flipping me so that I'm facing him and he draws me closer.

"Stop" he murmurs, that morning voice I once heard before making my heart stutter in my chest.

"Stop what?" I whisper, unsure if I'm even breathing anymore.

"Thinking" he says simply, knowing I'm getting in my head like the observant prick he is.

"Now how can I possibly do that?" I ask with a breathy laugh.

Adrian tilts my head up with his fingers and meets my lips with the most tender kiss I've ever had in my life.

God, I love kissing him.

"Gross, morning breath" I cringe and he chuckles.

"Did that help dim your thinking?" He asks with an arched eyebrow and I roll my eyes but cave and smile anyway.

"Don't know, try again" I suggest and he groans, kissing me again, this time harsher and with desperation.

When we part his eyes are hazy and I can't help but to bring a hand up to touch his face. It's weird but I have the strongest urge to and I can't fight it. I trace his features and he leans into my touch, kissing my palm when I brush the tip of his nose, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Adrian-"

"Later...please" he murmurs, eyes still closed and face relaxed and content.

How can I deny a face like that?

I stay quiet, enjoying the way I feel in his arms. Reveling in it. How can something I believe to be so wrong feel so fucking right.

That's cheesy, I'm aware, but it's the only thing I can come up with to explain it.

For so long I believed he wanted nothing to do with me and here I am, waking up in his arms and hearing him beg me to stay. It's unfamiliar territory, for the both of us and all he wants to do is just...be with me.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to let him.

"I've imagined you like this, in my arms, too many times" he suddenly mumbles and I look up to see his eyes and how full of hope and longing they are.

Have I been so blind? Has he always looked at me that way? Was that the look I spent so long avoiding when I couldn't meet his gaze?