Haven • H.S.

29. Mornings*

Haven- 29

"...some legends are told. some turn to dust or to gold. but you will remember me. for centuries..."

Harry.

I was sure of one thing. I would never get enough of her. I would never get enough of the beauty that awaited me every morning we spent together. When her eyes opened to be a darker version of the normally crystalline blue they always were and the remnants of her mascara had covered the skin below her eyelids through the night. Or when her hair was a mess of dirty blonde on the pillow case, on her pillowcase. She occupied that side of the bed more than just in the time physically. I'd learned that the night she'd spent away from me. She was still there. She would always be there.

But today was different. So much different.

Last night had turned me inside out. It'd been that last piece. Just like I knew it would be. It'd successfully chipped away at the rest of my sanity when it came to Ella, and I obtained no more control. Nothing had ever felt so much like relief, pleasure, and just the plain feeling of holy shit, this feels so right, mixed into one dizzying package of sweaty limbs and sloppy kisses.

I could've shouted it, making positive the neighbors could hear. Or even whispered it where the skin of her neck met her shoulder. Quiet, resolute. The three words. I could've, and I told myself I would when we eventually made love, but I hadn't. God, fucking dammit, I hadn't.

I worried for a moment if, even though I hadn't told her the power she held over me, that it still amounted to love making. And I prayed it did, because that was what it'd been for me.

There was no time limit on love. There was no saying whether someone couldn't fall in love in a week, or maybe a year. So why did I feel like every time it almost slipped past my lips, that it was too early? I hated that part of me. The still insecure clench of my gut. It made me, along with so many other things, feel like a coward.

But I'd shown her. To justify it to myself, I'd shown her last night. Every time my fingertips cared to reconcile her skin, it'd been to say, in so many words, that I loved her. That I would never love anything or anyone, including myself, more than her. And dammit, I hoped she could read me as good as I had always read her.

She was snoring softly next to me, or rather under me because I'd have it no other way. We didn't slip clothes back on before we'd fallen asleep. Maybe we were too tired. Or maybe we just needed that extra contact. For me, it was the latter.

The lighting in my room was dim, but I knew the sun past those blinds was bright. Only cracks shone through yet it was enough to light Ella, begging me to treasure her again. And again, and again, and again. No matter that I'd done just that only ten hours ago, it wasn't enough. I could've stayed up all night memorizing every inch of her skin.

Merciless toward Ella, my c.ock throbbed desperately against her thigh while her eyes remained closed, unaware. She was addicting, like the best kind of cocaine, and now that I'd had my first fix, who's to say I'll ever get enough? Who's to say it won't suck me in?

I stared at the areas I led my hand. Over her midriff, thumbing the underside of her perfect breast, along her shoulders and down her arms. I couldn't stop touching her, and she was innocently oblivious in her sleep of just what I wanted to do to her. There were so many ways I could wake her up now, so many ideas without the barrier that I'd go too far. Would she wake before I had the chance to shift upward and over, align myself with her heat and plunge in? I yearned for the wide eyed start she'd wake with and the moan that would be her first word of the day.