Page 75 of Cherry Beats

“It’ll still be there in the morning.” He smirked.

“Me, too.”

“You’d better be.”

I pushed my hands under my cheek and smiled as I watched naked Presley climbing into bed, turning on his side to face me, and shuffling closer until we were only a couple of inches apart. His hand found my waist and tugged me closer, so our bodies were pressed together, and his arm was wrapped around me. We were all silence and eyes searching eyes as we stared at one another.

“Morning, Cherry,” Presley said through a sigh.

“Morning, rock star.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes open for a single second longer, and I watched him fall asleep; a huff of air leaving him slowly.

I studied the curve of his top lip, the almost cute button nose that took in his breaths and set them free as he slept, and I watched the way his lashes flickered ever so slightly while he got lost in a dream. I stayed that way for a while, taking every inch of him in.

This was perfect.

He was perfect.

When I finally gave in to sleep myself, I dreamt of him while in his arms, and not even my imagination could make him any more perfect than he already happened to be.

Chapter Twenty-One

My lashes fluttered wildly, and my eyes narrowed to fight off the sun that was streaming through the now-opened cream curtains in front of me. A huge, arched window looked out over central London, letting the whole world come to life while I remained half asleep. I couldn’t lift my head or even move. My hands were still tucked under my cheek from the night before, and my legs had the duvet trapped between them, one hanging out, exposing my back and arse.

I sighed heavily, letting the weight of my sleep drift out of me as I stretched my mind to life.

“I love it when you make those moaning sounds,” Presley said from behind me.

I closed my eyes, smiling to myself. “What time is it?” I mumbled sleepily.

“Sometime in the afternoon. We slept well.”

I moaned, stretching my feet and wiggling my toes. “That’s what you wanted, right?”

“That’s the most sleep I’ve had in three years,” he admitted quietly.

“Then why aren’t you in bed with me now?”

“I wanted to admire the view.”

“And you couldn’t come back into bed once you’d taken a peek?”

“Yeah, but sitting here in this chair behind you and staring at your naked arse for the last fifteen minutes was a temptation I couldn’t resist.”

Glancing over my shoulder as lazily as I could, I saw him sitting there in a wingback chair, looking as dreamy as ever. His thick, wavy hair was tucked behind one ear while the other side fell forward. He was naked and waiting with his casual smirk in place, and his eyes narrowed. He looked rested. My rock star finally looked relaxed. He had one leg perched over his other knee, his hands around his ankle as he eye-fucked me.

“Keep looking at me like that and you’ll get me pregnant,” I joked quietly.

Pushing himself up, Presley rose from the chair and leaned down over me, his hands pushing into the mattress while his hair hung forward, and he lowered his face to mine.

“I don’t want to get you all knocked up, baby. But I do want to fuck you for a while and make damn sure it leaves an impression.”

My stomach flipped with excitement.

“I like the sound of that.”

“You had one night to make it count with me, and it worked. Now I need a day to make it count for you.”

---