Perfect Flaws

22. Distant for Doubts

I clear my throat, "So, which cup do you want?"

His eyes blink up to mine, burning. "Surprise me."

I nod, "Alright."

I turn around, reaching up into the cabinet, looking for a cup that suits him the most. "Fuck," he whispers.

Glancing behind me, I look into his eyes, "What?"

"You, you're so clueless as to your effect. Rhea, I need you to put some pants on, unless you want to end up back in that bed."

I'm suddenly very aware of the air surrounding my skin just below the hem of his shirt.

A surprising burst of confidence hits me.

"What if I'm comfortable like this? You wouldn't tell me I can't be comfortable, right?" I tease, looking into his eyes.

Desire seeps into his eyes, as they darken. "No. Never," he gulps.

"Perfect," I grin.

"Mhm," he agrees, looking down at me.

I grab a cup for him, setting it next to the one I picked for myself. The smell of coffee intensifies in the air. It's heaven.

Taking the coffee pot, I pour the liquid into each cup. "Do you have creamer?" I ask. "No," he replies, taking his cup, drinking immediately, with nothing but coffee.

I stare at him, "You like black coffee?"

"You don't?"

My face scrunches, "No. Do you have milk and sugar, then?"

He nods, leaning against the counter with his hip. I grab milk and sugar, pouring enough until the coffee is a light beige.

I look up at Elijah and see him staring in disgust. "What?" I ask.

"That looks so sweet," he mumbles.

I shrug, taking a sip with both of my hands around the cup. I tip my head back in joy as I swallow my drink. "Wonderful," I smile.

Elijah chuckles, setting down his cup while on his way to feed Nala.

I take my coffee and sit at his countertop.

Watching him is unsurprisingly fun. His back muscles flex as he leans down to pour food into her bowl.

"Your cups are cute," I blurt, needing to distract myself. He straightens his back, turning to look at me. "Dal picked them out. He didn't like my old ones," he sighs.

I laugh, "Sounds like him."

He watches me intensely, shaking his head just slightly, as a grin covers his lips.

Curiosity peaks into me, "What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"Nope."

"Boring," I sigh, turning back to my cup.

In a few seconds, I feel him behind me. I turn towards him in confusion. His hands find my outer thighs, slowly and soothingly rubbing in circles.

"You're gracefully perfect. Your heart is beautiful, your smile, your eyes, your skin, your hair," he pauses, "I want to deserve you. I know I don't, but I will strive to become what you deserve."

My mind races into too many directions. My heart skips too many beats. I'm not even sure I heard him right.

How can he feel that way? How is it possible to feel that way for me?