Improvised Plan #ProjectNigeria

25- Coffee

Songs: 'Sure Thing' and 'Coffee' by Miguel. Play these songs and thank me later!!

Ola:

I wake slowly.

I am aware of the person beside me even before my eyes open. My breathing is as slow as his, my skin is absorbing his warmth, and my body feels relaxed, like when you chew bubble gum and pull it, before allowing it to slacken between your fingers. I lie still beside Saheed, staring at the ceiling and synchronizing my breathing to his. Everything feels...nice. Even the sweet soreness of my muscles.

Around us my room is dimly lit because the curtains are drawn, blocking out the morning sunlight. The air is cold from the air conditioning. Blissful silence envelops us like a cocoon, making me imagine what it is like to be a baby in its mother's womb.

I turn my head towards Saheed. He is still deeply asleep, facing me from the end of my pillow, an arm lying loosely on my midriff underneath the duvet. In the silence, I study his features. His brows are relaxed, leaving no trace of the usually brooding expression he carries for at least two-thirds of a day. Full lashes, high cheekbones, straight nose- except for the bump indicating that it had once been broken, full lips with a deep cupid's bow, a face framed by short, blunt, dark hair.

I'd meant what I said last night. Saheed is beautiful. From the way he laughs to the unexpected gentleness he shows, to the passion that rolls off him in waves. It shows in the way his eyes light up with his usual mischief, in the sound of his voice, in the pained expression on his face last night. It showed in how his lips had moved over mine last night, how his hands had touched me in intimate places. It shows now as he sleeps, calm like the surface of the sea after a storm.

That's what makes him dangerous, I think. Lucifer was beautiful.

Saheed's words ring in my ear, clear and emotionless: And yes, I want you so badly it's all I can think of sometimes... But that's just it. Anything more, and you may get hurt.

I sigh, pushing the thoughts out of my mind. What does it matter, when I am currently enjoying his presence? The moment he steps out through my door, everything will return to normal.

He distracts me by murmuring my name.

"Ola?"

The sound makes me smile, makes my heart beat faster.

"Come here," he says sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes. His voice is rough and low, a sexy combination.

Abandoning all thought, I let him pull me closer. He positions himself in a way that allows him to nestle his face in the crook of my neck while his arm is draped over me in a more possessive manner. Once comfortable, he sighs deeply in satisfaction and kisses my skin.

"You smell so good, I want to wake up beside you every morning, Ola."

My insides lurch and my breath catches. Surely, he won't remember saying this when he's fully awake, will he? I hold back my laughter when I realize, a few seconds later, that he has drifted back to sleep, his breath fanning my skin. I maneuver my neck so I can briefly kiss his forehead. He makes a small sound and entwines his leg between mine. I like how he feels against me, solid and warm. I like how he shows that he needs me- at least temporarily.

Ola, you're beginning to stray.

I agree with myself; I am straying. In response, my mind strays further, to last night. How gentle he had been, tender, unlike the last time we were both- what did Saheed call it, emotionally unstable? Last night, it was like he had...worshipped my body, undoing me like a careful, patient child would undo the wrapping sheets on a long-awaited present. Every inch of my body he had touched and kissed, urging me to stay still, telling me, "Ola, I want to please you. You don't have to do anything. Watching your reactions is more than enough for me."