Page 99 of The Awakening
There’s a pause, and he opens his eyes again, looking at me and waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he snuggles down again. “Good night.”
“Good night…”
The space between us falls silent, but the sound of the rain is still brash, the wind rushing against the outer walls of the cottage. The thunder and lightning have subsided as I lie there listening, fighting off sleep because I want this moment to last. For us to just live and exist in this peaceful, perfect space in the center of the storm.
* * *
Junichi likes morning sex.
Before I was with him, I was accustomed to sex under the cover of nightfall—when all manner of unscrupulous behaviors tend to occur. As they should, I used to think. Like the things you do are hidden somehow and there’s a mild sense of shame to them. Unspoken but universally recognized.
Not that I never had sex in the daytime. It just wasn’t a regular affair. Nighttime felt more natural to me.
Not for Jun. First thing in the morning, when the sunlight would blaze through that ridiculous glass wall of his, he’d be touching and nipping at me. I’d wake up to soft kisses in the concave of my neck or down my naked spine, his long fingers stroking my sides. Once, I woke up gasping to a cheeky bite inside my thigh. Incredible.Jun doesn’t have one bit of shame in his lovemaking. He’d revel in my body and the sunlight, as if it were a spotlight and hewantedthe world to see what we did. How beautiful we were naked and entwined together and how excellent he was at driving me to the precipice of ecstasy.
Performance art.
It’s morning. I’m lying on my back, awake and staring up at the ceiling. My nature may have been asleep last night, but it’s wide awake now and practically roaring inside me—wild and hot, shooting up and down my body, across every pore and inch of my skin. I slept well through the night. Maybe the best I have in months. But now it feels like my nature is paying me back tenfold for that singular night of peace.
I’m about to get up when I feel Jun rustle beside me. His voice is groggy as he stretches. “Good morning.”
“Hi.” I sit upright. Him moving just a little is making his scent fan out and wash over me in waves. I take a breath to try and calm the insanity taking place within me. “D-did you sleep well? Do you want breakfast?” My voice comes out hoarse, and I swallow hard.
Junichi sits up slowly, then turns his head to look at me. “I did.”
I nod. “Great…” When he doesn’t go on, I repeat, “Breakfast?”
“You don’t need to make anything for me.”
“If I don’t, who will?”
“I’ve been practicing.”
Drawing back, I frown, but with a smile, skeptical. “Cooking?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
He lifts his chin. “Yes.”
“What can you make?”
“Hm… rice, if there’s a rice cooker. Boiled chicken and rice, beans and rice. Miso soup… and rice.”
I laugh and shake my head, which is a nice distraction from the heat swirling within me. “So if I catch a cold or suddenly want to gain an absurd amount of weight, you’ve got my meals under control, yeah? Like an ill person’s diet.”
“I’m making progress. I can make quesillo—Dominican flan. It’s easy, and my mom used to make it for me all the time.”
I smile. “Very nice… But I don’t mind it—making a quick breakfast.”
Junichi surprises me when he leans into my space until we’re nose to nose, and I’m blinking because he’s so close. He’s not touching me, but I stop breathing as he speaks low, the warm whisper of his breath rushing against my lips. “Is breakfast in bed an option?” He softly bumps his forehead into me, then tilts his head and caresses his nose against mine.
And that’s all it takes. I can’t breathe, and a fire ignites and flares inside me that I can’t control—so intense like I’ve never felt before and everything goes to hell, quite swiftly.
Forty-Five
Junichi
