The Stranger / Chris Evans x OC

Chapter 152: Lunch Date

AMELIA

I wake up at the annoying sound of my alarm clock, alerting me that it's time to get up for work. 

I turn it off with a tired groan, my brows furrowed as I will myself to wake up. But my will isn't very strong. 

Because it takes less than a second before strong arms wrap around me and pull me across the bed, right into a firm, warm chest. 

Chris nuzzles his face into my neck, his arms holding me so close I can barely breathe, and it makes me chuckle, "Baby, I have to get up for work." 

Chris just grunts in annoyance, not letting up the iron tight grip he has on me, his beard tickling my skin when he trails kisses down my neck. 

"Fuck work," he grumbles sleepily, his voice deep and groggy, "Stay." 

I let out a small laugh, pushing my back into his chest as he wraps a long leg over my hip to press into me more insistently. 

"I can't," I reply with a smile, finding one of his hands and entwining our fingers, "I need to work." 

"Why?" He half whines, huffing against my neck, "Work is no fun, stay here with me. I promise to give you a good time." 

I chuckle, "Well, I need work for money. And you know, that's without mentioning that entire 'I want to achieve my dreams' thing." 

"I have money," Chris murmurs against my neck, "Take some of mine." 

I snort out a laugh, shaking my head in response, "I don't want your money, I want my own money." 

Chris huffs jokingly, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck, "Are you saying my money's no good?"

"Mhmm," I giggle, "That's exactly what I'm saying." 

"How dare you," Chris grumbles, his arms releasing their hold for only a moment before he turns me onto my back. He leans on his forearm to hover over me, a teasing glint in his cerulean blues, "What's wrong with my money?"

I grin as I look up at him, reaching up to card my fingers through his mussed up morning hair, "I didn't earn your money. I earned mine." 

"So?" He questions, leaning down to nudge my nose with his own, "If I wanted to share my money with you, it would technically become yours." 

"Yeah, but that's not how it works," I chuckle, my hand trailing down the side of his face to stroke his beard, "I wouldn't feel comfortable spending money that wasn't my own." 

That makes his brows furrow. He tilts his head, blue eyes gazing over my face before he asks, "You don't think you'd.. ever, feel comfortable with that?"

I mirror his curious look, letting my fingers trail over his cheek, "What do you mean?" 

"Weeelllll...." he drags out the word, maneuvering around until he can place his beefy body between my legs. His upper body hovers over mine, leaning on his forearms, as I let my fingers run through his soft locks. 

"What if," he continues, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "For example, hypothetically, we were married. Would you still feel weird about it?"

I let out a surprised chuckle, tilting my head as I look up at him. My fingers card through his hair as I shake my head, "No, if we were married it would be different." 

"Why's that?" he muses, leaning into my touch with a soft smile on his face. 

"Because then we'd be married," I reply with a smile, "Being married is a whole different type of security. I wouldn't have to worry about becoming reliant on you, or your money, or your lifestyle, and risk that you'd be able to pull the rug out from under me suddenly."