Let Yourself Fall

nine

Noelle

I can feel the sun flooding into my bedroom.

Nooooo. I forgot to close the curtains.

I don't want to get up. I wriggle around and... Wait.

With my eyes still closed, I feel a smooth, warm, and very naked torso beneath my touch.

And then it hits me. Damien!

We were watching TV, and then? I think I fell asleep, but how did we end up like this? Did anything happen?

I start feeling uncomfortable when I realize that not only is my arm over him. Nope. My whole body is practically on top of him.

I glance down, and to my relief, I see that I'm dressed in a long blue shirt.

I can't remember putting it on, though.

Oh, shit.

I try to pull away without touching him, but his arm, which is around my waist, starts stroking my back.

He's awake. Great.

And he looks unbelievable. How is it possible that even early in the morning with messy hair, he looks absolutely perfect?

And his chest.

Shoot me in the fucking face. He is RIPPED!

Needing to touch every inch of him, my hand magically moves to his broad shoulders, his collarbones, down his chest. Lightly covered in hair. I have a strong urge to let my tongue trail down his torso, and it takes everything to resist leaning forward and doing just that.

Following his chiseled abs to his happy trail, and oh, sweet baby Jesus, to his V-line.

I bite my lip. I'm in bed with what is undoubtedly the most beautiful creature ever created.

I could cry.

His low moan makes me jump back, and I almost fall out of bed, but his arm around my waist swiftly pulls me back to him.

What on earth is wrong with me? The way I was touching him... He must think I'm some kind of creep.

His low, raspy chuckle makes me look at him, painfully aware of how horrible I must look.

"You don't need to stop, Baby."

I groan and pull the duvet up to cover my face.

He enjoys this.

That bastard. That ridiculously good-looking bastard.

He yanks it back.

"Not a morning person, huh?" His morning voice, still heavy with sleep, sends a spark through my body.

Holy shit.

I press my lips together and shake my head, and he cocks one of his perfectly arched eyebrows.

"You're not talking to me?"

I suppress a smile, pressing my lips even tighter together, and nod.

"You want to brush your teeth first?"

Ah, he's good.

He loosens the grip he has around my waist, and I jump up and hurry into the bathroom.

Oh hell, I do look like death.

After brushing my teeth and trying to fix my hair, I notice Damien leaning on the doorframe.

Smirking.

Just in black briefs, my legs begin to wobble, and I need to hold onto the sink. I force my stare away from his very prominent and impressive bulge.