𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗈 | 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗇

Chapter Fifteen

She jumped when Michael plopped down in front of her, matching her crisscrossed position as he smiled. "I can't cook." He smirked, holding a green apple in his hand and a pocket knife in the other.

She giggled as she nodded, her hand moving to his knee. "I know you can't. Remember last time?"

He rolled his eyes as he cringed, flipping open the knife. "Don't remind me." Several months back when they were both living with Miriam, he had attempted at making a peach pie, only because both Ana and Ms. Mead refused to. He had been irritated, so he attempted at it himself. Needless to say, the kitchen had caught on fire, and Miriam banned him from ever using the stove again.

She chuckled as she laid her head against his chest, and he cut a thin piece of the apple off as he held it between his fingers. "Here." He kissed her head, urging her to lift her face.

Her curls bounced as she lifted herself, and she smiled as she opened her jaw. He held it to her lips, and her teeth sunk into it. "So, what were you daydreaming about?" He glanced at her, his eyes casting down as he cut another piece.

She wiped her mouth as her lips glistened from the juice off the apple, and she shook her head slightly. "Nothing." She gripped his leg, and he narrowed his eyes as he stuffed another piece in her mouth. "Mhm." He craned his brow. "Tell me."

She cleared her throat as she swallowed, her stomach slightly nauseous as it digested the food. It wasn't really that she didn't believe the words he had told her, but she was in denial, her body being stuck a positive, energy sucking vessel that wouldn't let her go. The sound of the knife sliced through the apple, and he tapped the piece against her lips as he nodded.

She sighed in defeat as she grabbed it, shrugging her shoulders. "I- I don't know." She looked up to him through her lashes, taking half a bit of her fruit. His eyes narrowed as she swallowed, seeing the emotions cross over her face. She couldn't process it, he could see that. Hell, he couldn't either.

But this wasn't going to be a day of tears or sorrow, he couldn't allow it. He needed her to be happy, to bring light in her life. He sighed as he grabbed her hands, tilting up his chin. "I meant everything I said yesterday, Anastasia. Everything still goes. It's just us here, okay? Cordelia and the witches are gone, and it's just us." He kissed her knuckles. "Now, we're taking a break, okay? From everything. So eat and start getting happy." He stuffed the apple in between her teeth, and she laughed out in a muffled tone.

He smiled, leaning over to take a bite out of the other half as it dangled from her mouth. Her wide smile made it drop, and their noses pressed against each other as they giggled like children. "I missed you." He spoke, his hand snaking around the back of her neck. "Fuck, I missed you so much."

She nodded, her hand going underneath his shirt. His lips pressed against hers, and his hands sunk into the wild mess of her curls. She climbed up onto his lap, her arms going around his neck as their tongues moved together. It was soft and passionate, their actions slow and full of the purest love that even out cupid to shame. He pressed his back against the wall, and his hands moved down to grope the curve of her ass. She moaned into his mouth, the taste of apple sweetening their kiss as her hand traveled down to his belt buckle. "No." He spoke against her, his hands going to her hips. "Today is about you, sweetheart. Let me make it about you."

He moved her backwards until she was perched on the very tips of his knees, and he moved her hands so they could rest against his thighs. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her body relaxed when he kissed her. She sighed as his lips went to her neck, lightly sucking and biting behind her ear. She gasped when his knee pressed against her clit, her breath stuttering out of her as she stalled. He smirked as he leaned back to look at her, his chin tilting upward as he nodded. "Go on." He encouraged, holding her hips as he rolled her body forward.