"Your bed is divine.” He snuggles into the pillow he has his arms wrapped around, and I can't help but be struck by how gorgeous he is.
Or how familiar and normal this all seems.
Havok is on his side facing me, his hair is a mess, the pin straight strands sticking up and out on one side of his head, flat and plastered to the other. His stunning eyes are still tired but no less breathtaking. A bit of scruff has grown in around his goatee, the stubble emphasizing the hard line of his chiseled-from-stone jaw. Those full, pillowy lips turned up at the corners into a satisfied smile, his adorable dimples popping in my face so hard I want to lick them.
Havok isn't just hot, he's absolutely beautiful and right now, in this moment, I’m going to pretend he’s mine.
"I'm glad you like it.” I clear my throat and turn back to the skillet. "But it can't be that comfortable for you. You must be what, six-six, six-seven? That's only a queen-sized mattress."
He takes a deep breath, yawns and stretches like a cat. "Six-foot-eight and three quarters. And perhaps it is a little snug but it smells like you and it's feather soft. I would take my legs off at the knee just to fit in a space so perfect."
Hives break out all over my neck as I smile like an idiot. This man makes me all sorts of swoony.
"That's impressive."
I glance up at him, Havok now sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling off the side. He's hunched down a bit because the loft is so close to the ceiling and his feet are maybe a foot or two from the ground, but the smile that doesn't seem to leave his face leads me to believe he doesn't mind.
And I still can't help but feel like I've done this before with him. Not necessarily sharing a bed or waking up together, but being together in a similar way. Intimate though relaxed, seamless ease and normalcy. It's so oddly familiar. Like deja vu even.
"What's impressive?" My eyes quickly return to the food I'm ready to plate before throwing in potatoes.
"The way you cook so well with nothing but a wood burning stove. Your little pouches are always delicious and I have no doubt our middle of the night breakfast will be just as wonderful.” His legs are swinging back and forth now, making circles, his toes flexing. "This is all rather impressive, actually. Even more so knowing you built this home yourself."
And now my hives have probably turned into a blotchy mess on my face.
I've never had anyone inside my house before Havok. Never let anyone in or close enough to be considered to visit. Now that I'm thinking about it, it's kind of nerve wracking to have someone in my space like this; so intimate, so vulnerable. I know I have nothing to worry about with him, but Havok keeps knocking down my walls and that is slightly terrifying too. Especially as he looks around my house with a smile and the curiosity of a mischievous little boy.
I have fairy lights around my ceiling that stretch from my loft all the way to the kitchen on the other side. There are dozens of tapestries and scarves that hang from beams along with beaded twine and braided tassels. There are dark colored rugs all over my wood floors, tribal blankets and sparkly throw pillows on the furniture. My bathroom has an actual door—privacy is important even when you're alone, but the rest of my house is open, save for the curtains. Sheer curtains divide each space to a degree; a maroon one against my loft, a purple in front of my shelves and storage. The kitchen and living room are essentially a shared space but the dining portion of the kitchen has a pale blue curtain that separates it from the rest.
And just beyond that pale blue material are my most special treasures, the collection that I'm completely obsessed with and is probably almost as important to me as Samson.
I'm very proud of my home, the hard work I put into it, the strong foundation and sustainable abilities it has. My windows are bullet proof, walls lined with a metal so strong it could probably withstand a bomb. The steel shutters keep out light but also help with heat in the winter and the layout allows for a wonderful cross breeze during the summer months. It really is a mobile fortress of solitude, doomsday planning at it’s best really, and it's protected by my amazing guard dog and trusty firearms.
And right now, the vampire wandering through the small space with a gleam in his eye while he looks through my cupboards.
"Should we eat outside or..." He lifts a brow in question as I wince.
I don't want to go outside, I barely want to leave my home at all.
My nightmare the other day was the worst yet, and despite the happy little bubble I've been in since Havok arrived, I'm terrified I'll walk outside to find the man with the soulless eyes waiting for me.
So I shake my head and finish our hash browns. "I have a dining area. We can eat there."
I finish plating our food and Havok immediately takes them from me, that amazing smile still on his face. He holds my eyes for a beat then quickly leans down and steals a kiss before his smile grows impossibly wider while I giggle.
And try to regulate my heartbeats.
It was very risky when I took a chance and kissed him the other day. I knew I could easily be rejected, knew I should never do something so brazen as that, but I wanted to so badly and not just as a thank you for pulling me from a nightmare that was most likely going to kill me. No, I wanted to kiss Havok because it felt right, felt like I was supposed to, like I was born to kiss him and love him, to have him for always.
And for a first kiss, he absolutely did not disappoint.
It may have been brief but I can definitely tell Havok is a great kisser.
Not that I have anything to compare it to but you get my point. With lips like his there is no way the man can be bad at it.
But, I was still worried.
Worried that it was an in-the-moment kind of thing, something that he only humored me on, but the fact that he just kissed me again, that he initiated it this time gives me a little hope that maybe he feels the same way I do.
