hair spilled across my pillow, tickling my nose, and I now recognized the need to sneeze. I pinched my nose shut, not wanting to sneeze on Nyx’s head, but also not wanting to disturb her when she was sleeping so soundly. After a moment, the urge went away, and I was able to put my arm back around her.
I didn’t try to go back to sleep, though. Knowing what I did about her, I was appreciative and proud that she trusted me enough to sleep with me. Literally sleep with me. I didn’t need her to tell me that falling asleep next to me was something she didn’t do with anyone else.
I wasn’t under any illusions that last night’s encounter had obliterated all the negatives, and it’d be smooth sailing from here on out, but it had brought us closer together, and not just in a physical sense. Connecting on an emotional level was important, but Nyx needed to see that what we had between us wasn’t limited to her coming to me when she was upset and me providing her with a physical distraction. I was determined to make this work, and after last night, I had hope that Nyx was too.
She made a sound and rolled over onto her stomach. I let her go, not wanting to scare her by holding on tight, even though that’s what I wanted to do. The sheet slipped down to just above her ass, giving me a view of her entire tattoo, and I took advantage of the moment to really study the work.
Kaimi was a true artist. That much was obvious, even to me, and I’d never been anything close to an art connoisseur. No one in my family was. Every piece of art in my family’s home had been selected by the most expensive interior designer in Savannah. She’d given my parents information on each piece, letting them sound as if they had worked with her on finding every item. Since I’d never seen Ashley show an interest in art, I assumed she’d done the same thing.
As my eyes traced the lines up her back, my hands itched to follow. Hell, my tongue wanted to join the parade, but Nyx was sleeping, and no matter how appealing the idea of waking her up with something sensual, I wouldn’t do it. We didn’t know each other well enough for me to make assumptions about what was okay or not okay to do when she didn’t have the ability to use a safe word.
While that option of waking her wasn’t an option right now, there was something else I could do for her. Something that I hoped would make her feel like this morning could become a normal occurrence.
Breakfast.
I carefully got out of bed, not wanting to disturb her, and headed to the kitchen. I was no chef, but I could handle scrambled eggs and bacon. I worked on autopilot, keeping one ear out for Nyx even as I reminded myself not to overwhelm her. Our conversation last night had gone well, but it had shown that she needed me not to push.
“That smells good.”
I looked over my shoulder and was struck with an almost painfully intense bolt of lust that made me wish I was wearing something a little more substantial than just the boxer-briefs I’d slept in. They didn’t do anything to hide how I got immediately and completely hard at the sight of her in one of my t-shirts. It had less to do with those long, bare legs of hers and more to do with the sudden possessiveness I felt at seeing her wearing something of mine.
“Thanks.” I turned back to the stove on the pretense of needing to stir the eggs. “Grab a plate.”
“How about I get two?” She didn’t quite pull off completely casual with the question, but I went with it.
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
As I split the eggs between the two plates, I had a flash of what my future could possibly look like, waking up next to Nyx, having breakfast with her, starting our day with the same routine.
“Have you been up long?” She broke the silence as she put her plate on the table.
“Just enough to get the food and coffee ready.”
“How do you take yours?” she asked as she walked over to the pot.
I would’ve told her that I’d get it for both of us, but I had a feeling that she wouldn’t be comfortable just sitting and waiting. Besides, I was