The morning sun tried its best to pierce through the heavy curtains shielding the oversized bedroom window, but it failed. The room remained bathed in a soft, dim twilight, yet it was enough to pull me from my slumber. As the memories of yesterday—of my birthday—rushed back, I could hardly suppress a smile. I didn't regret a single thing.
I was tucked under a silk duvet that, frankly, did nothing to keep me warm. But I didn't feel the chill; I only felt the heat radiating from his body. I pressed closer to him, seeking every ounce of his warmth. He was still dead to the world, while I was wide awake.
Collins shifted in his sleep, turning to face me and settling deeper into the pillow. Now, I could watch him—his quiet, rhythmic breathing a stark contrast to the chaos of my own mind. A ghost of a smile flickered at the corners of his lips; he must have been having a beautiful dream.
Unlike me. My night had been a whirlwind of strange, fragmented visions—either I'd watched too many horror movies lately, or my subconscious was playing tricks on me. But it didn't matter now.
After watching him for a while longer, I slipped out of bed, threw on his dress shirt for cover, and headed for the shower. Thank God I already knew where the bathroom was. The scalding jets of water burned my skin, leaving damp trails and angry red marks that lingered long after I stepped out. I didn't care. I basked in the heat, letting my muscles turn to jelly. It was exactly what I needed.
Wiping the condensation from the mirror with a thick, white towel, I traced a heart on the fogged-up glass with my fingertip. It was a bit lopsided, so I added an arrow through the center for good measure. With a heavy sigh, I pulled his shirt back on. It was saturated with the scent of his cologne—dark, sharp, and dangerously addictive.
I decided to whip up some breakfast while Collins was still snoring away. A quick raid of the fridge revealed eggs, milk, butter, and the remnants of last night's feast. The answer flashed in my mind like a neon sign: pancakes.
And to top it off? A jar of cherry jam sat on the bottom shelf. My absolute favorite. It would have been perfect with some yogurt, but alas, the fridge was lacking.
I swiped Chris's phone, plugged in my earbuds, and hit play. His playlist was... interesting, to say the least. It practically screamed "For those over thirty." Lost in the rhythm, I began to dance around the kitchen, flipping pancakes with a bit too much energy. I was so caught up in the music that I didn't notice the room was no longer empty.
Christopher stood leaning against the doorframe, his eyes heavy with sleep and a faint smile on his face.
"Good morning," I said, pulling out an earbud. With his tousled hair and sleepy gaze, he looked even more devastatingly handsome than usual.
"Feeling okay?" He approached me slowly, his bare chest pressing against my back as he wrapped his arms around my waist.
"Perfect," I beamed as he pressed a kiss to the side of my neck. It was so tender I almost purred, but I caught myself. "Hungry?"
"After I shower," he warned, stepping back. "Care to join me?"
"Regrettably," I gave him a mock-pout, "I've already been."
"Oh, you have no idea what you're missing out on."
"I have time to think about it."
"Not much time, though."
"Just go already."
I went back to the stove, but a sudden realization hit me: I'd left my pendant on the shelf in the bathroom. I could wait, but I knew I'd forget.
Setting the pancakes and jam on the table, I hurried to the bathroom just as the kettle started to whistle. From behind the door, I could hear the muffled sound of splashing water and... was he singing? I pushed the door open just as the water stopped. Collins peeked out from behind the shower curtain.
"Changed your mind so soon?"
"In your dreams." I started rummaging through the shelf above the sink, desperate to find my jewelry.
"Looking for this?" He held it up, dangling it between his fingers. Of course.
"Oh, thank God," I sighed in relief. The brief panic that it had been washed down the drain vanished. I reached for it, but he deftly pulled it behind the curtain.
"Give it back," I huffed, giving him my best glare.
"Only if you get in." He smirked, wagging his eyebrows playfully.
"Never." I lunged forward, capturing his lips in a sudden, distracting kiss while my hand went searching behind the curtain. The moment my fingers closed around the cold metal, I broke away and retreated.
"That's cheating!" Christopher called out, a mock-scowl on his face as he realized his plan had failed.
"You think?" I threw a sarcastic grin over my shoulder and bolted. Mission accomplished. And right on time—the kettle was screaming.