***
She’s still sleeping. She’s warm and sweet, and snores like a lumberjack.
Bless her heart.
The sheets have slipped down to her waist, leaving me with a gorgeous view of her chest. Her breasts aren’t large, but they’re firm, and the nipples are small and pink. I brush my thumb over the tip and watch in fascination as it tightens.
Callie’s legs shift, she rubs her nose and opens one ocean blue eye. “’Mornin,” she mumbles.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
“Did I snore?” she asks right away.
“Not bad,” I lie easily. “And even if you did, it just means that you slept well, and that’s good.”
She frowns, her eyes still closed, and rolls toward me. “Need a shower,” she murmurs.
“Let me hold you for a minute first,” I whisper and wrap my arms around her, hugging her close. Her legs scissor between mine as she holds on, her nose buried in my chest. “You feel good.”
“Mmm,” she purrs. God, that purr of hers almost undoes me. “You’re warm.”
“Are you cold?”
“No, you’re just warm.”
I grin and plant my lips on her head, breathing her in. This not-so-little moment is one that I was talking to her about before. This is when I feel the most settled, where my spirit is calm, and the chaos of life is outside.
It’s the closest thing to bliss I’ve ever experienced. It’s even better than performing, and I didn’t know that was possible.
“Hungry,” she says against my skin.
“Get in the shower,” I say, pulling back. “You’re covered in grass stains.”
A slow, satisfied smile spreads over her gorgeous face, and I’m tempted to roll on top of her and take her again.
Jesus, I can’t get enough of her.
“I didn’t mind getting the stains,” she says, then rolls away and gives me a prime view of her naked ass as she saunters into the bathroom. “Find me food!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply and pull on a pair of basketball shorts before padding downstairs to the kitchen. I really am a shitty cook, so it looks like we’ll be eating cold cereal again, which she doesn’t seem to mind, but it still feels lame. I should be able to provide a heartier breakfast than this.
As I move about the kitchen, the melody of the Adele song that Callie played on my piano last night is stuck in my head, so I decide to go play it. It’s a beautiful ballad about being in love, and making the one you love feel it. It makes me think of Callie every time I play it.
The music room is washed in rich, gold sunlight this morning. I love this room. I sit on the bench and begin to play, and when the song is over, I start at the beginning and play it all over again.
The music washes over me, and I’m awash in Callie. Her smile, her laugh, her scent. Her skin.
God, her tattoos are beautiful. I want to know what they all mean, why she chose them, and why are they only on her left arm?
I hear a noise behind me, and without pausing, I turn to see her standing in the doorway, wearing one of my button-down shirts in blue. Her eyes are happy. Shining. Full of lust and mischief.
She slowly walks across the room to me, and as I’m playing the bridge of the song, she stands on the bench at my hip, balances on my shoulders, and turns to face me, then plants her perfect ass on the piano above the keys, her bare * spread before me at eye-level.
Holy fuck.
I love that she knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. Or demand it.