Sinnerman

Chapter 32 Domesticity & Riches

For the first time in his life - Kylo's actually slept. And slept damn well.

He hadn't had a deep night of sleep like this since the first night he got out of prison. It wasn't fitful, or shallow. He didn't toss and turn. Didn't want to get up and work in his office on new designs til dawn. Fuelled by caffeine and restlessness.

He slept hard and deep. Didn't snooze. Sunk into a luxurious sleep and didn't come out of it until his body felt that he needed too. Actually got some fucking rest for once in his life.

It was early morning. The sun was tickling blazing red-pink his closed eyes from where he forgot to shut his black Roman blinds in the bedroom last night. He swallows. His mouth sticking furry from wine last night and sour from his sleep. He peels his eyes open, blinking at his bedroom, shrouded in bright sunshine. The trees outside swayed on the wind. All in all, it looked a calm bright day out there. Powder blue sky ungoverned by cloud.

He curses. Because this is the first time he's woken in his own bed to sunshine burning his eyelids. He's never slept in before to an extent that the rising sun was able to touch him. He made a note to himself that the next bedroom will have a lesser wall of windows to help with that problem.

He's on his side, arms and body curling into the pillow opposite his own. Hair tangled across too. Seeking across her side of the bed like some dark, light seeking plant vines. Curling across for her. His fingers stretch and wake up as he stretches, seeking for her little body that rolled away from him in the night.

Once more, warmed empty bedsheets greet his wandering palms. His dark eyes peek open again and search his crumpled white cotton bed. No Kitten.

But it isn't rage that overtook him. Rather it was an easy sort of carefree calm that swelled up instead. He wonders what she's getting up to this morning. Blinking away his bleariness, he sits up, throws the covers to bloom off him, drifting on the air, crumpling down to the warm big bed by the time he was already out the room.

He leisurely steps down his stairs. Muscles and limbs clacking and striding to life. He feels stiff joints ease. He comes down the stairs and something ebbs across to him other than the usual lemon neroli scented air of his place. The smell of breakfast.

Coffee. Bacon. And eggs.

Fuck. He's smiling more now than he's ever done before in his life. More than he can ever remember. His bare feet heavily slap the tiles as he walks to the open plan kitchen to see the hive of activity happening there.

Which happens to be Evie still in his blue dress shirt. With a white flowery pair of pyjama bottoms on. The lace on the short thing's frayed near the hem. A hole in the fabric of her right thigh. She had his big blue sleeves rolled up to her forearms. And her hair is messy. Bedhead. Sexy and cute all at once. It's missed toffee-red tucked behind one ear as she prods a pan full of bacon with the spatula. Before flitting back across to his coffee machine.

It was a nice sight to wake up too. She smiles as she sees him awake. Sucking butter from the already spread toast off her hand.

"Morning." She chirps brightly. "I'm so sorry. I had a little too much of that nice wine last night. I must've overslept." She speaks as she plates up the sizzling contents of the two cast iron pans she had on the go.

She knows he'd never bark at her to make his breakfast for him like some 1950's husband. She did it of her own violation to see her big man fed properly. Truly a southern comfort. Her being a feeder.

He sees soft scrambled eggs and rashers of bacon. Fried mushrooms and tomatoes. Her not-quite-full English breakfast, with a side of salty buttered toast. She whips back across, seemingly in a rush this morning. Kylo immediately grasps her concept.