The Billionaire And The Waitress (gxg)

39 - a morning

NEITHER of them said anything. Muse didn't know who moved towards the other first. Only that they were suddenly kissing. She'd thought their time on the beach had been as intense as it could get. She was wrong. Now that she knew what it felt like to have Adrien like that―wholly, completely, with no restraint―she needed her worse than she'd ever needed anything in her life.

     She didn't remember how she'd gotten to the edge of the bed, or when Adrien had closed the gap between them, standing above her. When their mouths collided, everything else vanished.

     Adrien lifted Muse off the edge of the bed, raising her onto her knees. She gripped her hips so hard she swore it'd leave bruises. Muse didn't care. She dug her fingers into Adrien's neck, over the smooth curves of her shoulders, the tenseness of her biceps. She moaned into Adrien's mouth. She had never felt urgency like this before. She wanted more. So much more.

     "Don't think," she said, gasping between kisses, "that I'm not still mad at you." She was trying―and failing―to hold onto the last semblance of her willpower.

     "Okay," Adrien breathed, fingers tangled in her hair, tugging gently. 

     On her knees, Muse's legs parted slightly. She ached so badly for Adrien. She could barely think straight, let alone form words. But she forced herself to say, "You lied to me, you know?"

    "I know." Adrien's lips were on her neck. Her brain was short-circuiting. "I'm sorry."

    "I know why you lied," Muse said, panting. "But I don't know if I can forgive you." Her sanity seemed to gain hold of her in that moment. She pulled back, a hand on Adrien's chest. "Maybe this isn't a good idea."

     She knew what Adrien's tongue felt like against her. Inside her. What her hands felt like, holding her still as she came. Muse shook her head. Stop. Stop. The burning in her blood refused to cool. Her skin stung, as if her body could sense the absence of Adrien's touch. Could sense it, and despised it. 

     "Okay," Adrien repeated, breathless. And as if it took every ounce of her own willpower, she drew back as well. They stared at each other, still so close Muse could see the reflection of the wedding suite glimmering in Adrien's eyes, a black mirage.

     "Just because we love each other, doesn't mean we're good for each other."    

     Adrien didn't say anything. But Muse could see the shift of her expression, the dawning of her realization. The slow imploding she couldn't hide. 

    "Muse," she said. The word from her lips sounded less like a name and more like a prayer, falling from the lips of a sinner at the altar of a god's temple. Half-worship, half-begging.

     "Adrien."

    "There's a petal in your hair." She uttered the words so softly Muse nearly didn't hear.

    It was one of the many rose petals that had been scattered across the bed. Muse didn't move―didn't breathe, not as Adrien leaned over, with agonizing slowness. 

    Forever passed in that moment. Eternities eclipsing each other. Stars shining and shattering in that one instant. Adrien gently tucked one of Muse's curls behind her ear, grasping the rose petal between two fingers. She held it between them. A question.

     It was as if something within Muse snapped. An unleashing. Adrien dropped the rose petal, and Muse kissed her again. So hard it hurt.

    Adrien swept her off the bed. Muse hooked her legs around her, straddling her. The urgency was back in full-force, worse than ever.