Page 42 of Siren's Heart

I fear I could get used to this–And that scares the fuck out of me.

Luca

She looks ethereal…the way she lays in her bed–hair fanned out on her white pillow like a halo, her smooth skin glowing in the golden morning sunlight. Only half her body is veiled by the sheets, her breasts peeking out under the covers. She looks like a Renaissance painting of beauty, more alluring than the best artist could capture.

I've been staring at her for minutes now, like a creep. The chorus of the song ‘You are my sunshine’ by Johnny Cash repeats in my head as I watch the morning light dance over her skin.

Theoretically, I need to go home, return the car to Asher, get my sports clothes, and maybe have some breakfast before I need to get to the stadium. How I’m even going to think about anything but her today, I don’t know. All I’ve been thinking about while staring at her creepily is the moment our lips first met and the times she came with my name on her lips–even the thought of leaving this comfy, warm bed and her behind almost physically hurt.

She mumbles something under her breath, her eyes starting to dance behind her still-closed eyelids, then she scrunches her nose up, before she smacks her lips and goes still again. Tentatively, I move, turning so I face her completely. My hand finds a strand of her hair, and I twirl it between my fingers as I drink her in.

I want to burn this image into my mind. Her pouty lips, which I finally know taste like sunshine and caramel, her rosy cheeks, and her hair, messed up by my hands running through it and her turning in her sleep.

But I need to get up.

I try to soften my steps as I search for my clothes. Even though she’ll have to wake up soon as well, I don’t want to disturb her sleep just yet. When I have all of my clothes, I sneak into her bathroom to get dressed, chuckling when I see my back in the mirror. Her short nails have left the tiniest marks on my shoulders, and I puff my chest out. I’m wearing her marks with pride.

When I return to the bedroom, she lies the exact way I left her. She didn’t move an inch. I walk over and tentatively sit down on the mattress. Softly cupping her cheek, she instantly melts into my touch; like a pet cat, she rubs her face against my palm.

"Good morning, Sunshine," I whisper, my thumb caressing her cheek until she blinks awake.

"Hmm?” She wakes up slowly, her eyes dancing around the room, disoriented.

"I have to go, Sweetheart." I lean forward and drop a kiss on her head.

"Why?" she whines, nudging her face into my hand and reaching for the hem of my shirt.

"I need to make a stop at home before training."

She sits up sluggishly, the sheet falling off her body, and I almost change my mind. God, if I didn't know that Asher would kill me, I'd crawl right back into bed, right into her arms, and just call in sick today.

"I'll see you at the stadium?" I press out, forcing myself not to look at her tits. I’m not very successful.

"Yeah," she says softly, a smile slowly spreading on her face when my eyes drop. Then she purses her lips and lifts her face, waiting for a kiss. I oblige. The soft sigh that touches my face brings me so close to my resolve snapping.

"Can't wait." I brush my lips against hers one more time, then force myself to stand up. It feels weird to just up and leave her here, but she watches me go with a sultry smile on her lips, her tits in full display, and she fucking knows that she’s going to be all I think about today.

"I need to ask you something," I tell Asher as we walk through the backstage labyrinth of the stadium toward where I assume the changing room is. We’ve been training here for quite a bit already, but I just can’t get it into my head. They should just hang up some signs because I’m definitely not the only one who routinely gets lost in here.

"Oh shoot, have you already reached that age?" he asks loudly, suddenly stopping and clutching his shirt right above his heart. "So, you know, there are the birds and the bees–"

"Oh shut up," I chuckle and punch his arm playfully. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"Okay, that sounds intense." He starts walking again, but slowly. "What's up?"

"So, I want to date Millie–"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"And we had a pretty serious talk yesterday–"

"Shocking."

I sigh and shake my head. "She warned me about the paparazzi and the lengths they go. I wanted to check in with you and learn what it's been like for you. Now that you're dating the other half of the duo."

A deep sigh escapes him, and the grin slowly slides off his face. Shit. That's not good. Within a moment, he schools his face and clears his throat.

"It’s good that she warned you," he mumbles and pops his head around the next corner, which, I think, is not where we need to go. When he sees that the place is empty and no one is close by, he pulls me around the corner and starts to explain.

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