Stolen Memories [Tayvis Fanfiction]

LUSTFUL

One Month Later
September 15th; 2025
Taylor Swift's Point of View
This morning, a miracle. No nausea greeting me like a grumpy landlord. Sixteen weeks in, and finally, food isn't the enemy. Grilled cheese, my new best friend, is staying down.

And then, a plot twist. A different kind of awakening entirely. A shift down south, like a switch flipped on. Suddenly, Travis is all I can think about, the memory of his touch sending shivers. Let's just say my libido is back, and it brought reinforcements.

A blush creeps up my neck, hot enough to rival the sizzling pan where another glorious grilled cheese awaits. Do I make a move? Act casual and hope the day unfolds in a certain direction?  A tiny voice, probably the rational pre-pregnancy me, whispers about waiting until after breakfast. But the rest of me, fueled by hormones and melted cheese, is a wild banshee chanting Travis's name.

I glance across the kitchen, catching him mid-yawn as he stretches for the coffee pot. His sleep-tousled hair and the way his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders do nothing to quell the firestorm brewing within. Maybe a casual approach is best. A subtle invitation.

"Hey," I call out, my voice a touch breathy. "Think we have any pickles? You know, for the, uh, grilled cheese?" Don't judge me and my pregnancy cravings.

It's lame, I know. But it buys me time to assess the situation. Does he catch the not-so-subtle hint of desire in my voice? Does a knowing glint appear in his eyes? Or am I just projecting my own fantasies?

The coffee pot gurgles, and Travis turns, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Pickles? In this economy?"

A snort escapes me, the tension momentarily broken. "Hilarious," I deadpan, but a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "Seriously though, pickles or no pickles?"

He saunters closer, that lazy, confident stride that used to drive me wild (and apparently still does). Leaning against the counter, he reaches into the cabinet with exaggerated effort, peering inside. "Hmm, the cupboard is bare. Looks like we'll have to improvise, milady." His voice is a low rumble, sending shivers down my spine.

My breath catches as he straightens, his gaze locking with mine. There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but something deeper too – a spark that mirrors the heat rising in my cheeks. "Unless," he continues, a playful smirk gracing his lips, "you have another suggestion for satisfying those cravings?"

My heart hammers against my ribs. Is this happening? Is he actually...? My mind scrambles, the pre-pregnancy voice screaming "play it cool!" But the hormonal banshee drowns it out.

"Maybe there's another way to take the edge off this... grilled cheese situation," I finally manage, voice barely a whisper. The air crackles with unspoken desire.

Travis's smile widens, turning predatory. He steps closer, the space between us shrinking with each deliberate movement. "Is that so?" His hand brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. "Then perhaps we should forget the pickles altogether."

He leans in further, his breath warm on my face. The scent of coffee and sleep mingles with his familiar cologne, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.  "Breakfast can wait," he murmurs, his lips hovering tantalizingly close.

Suddenly, the sound of the smoke alarm pierces the moment. We both jump back, startled. I groan, flinging a hand over my face. Of course. Just when things were getting interesting...

Travis throws his head back and laughs, the tension dissolving. "Looks like breakfast is a priority after all," he chuckles, reaching up to deactivate the blaring alarm.

"No it isn't!" I counter, a rebellious streak igniting within me. My voice might be a breathless whisper, but my hormones are screaming a different story. Before I can overthink it, I grab his shirt and pull him towards me.