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Sephie: I have work to do, keep me updated about your hand.
Brahms: Don’t deny us. We were great together, baby.
I hit send before I can overthink it. Pet names were once so natural between us. Something has to remind her that we were fucking amazing together, that I love her with every cell of my body. But maybe the damage is truly beyond repair. I await her reply nervously, regretting my impulsive text. But she doesn’t respond. When Lucius sets the waffles in front of me, it reminds me of her and her sweet tooth. Everything had extra whipped cream and sprinkles. Sometimes even kisses.
* * *
(Then)
“Thought waffles would hit the spot this morning,” I said lightly as Seraphina entered the kitchen.
She walked closer, her fingertips lightly grazing mine in a simple yet weighted touch. “You’re up early,” she remarked through a yawn, stretching her arms overhead.
I chuckled lowly. “Or someone woke up later than usual,” I replied, nodding toward the freshly brewed pot. “Coffee’s ready, nice and strong but not too bitter since it’s the weekend.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Brahms Ehrenberg, sir?” she teased, arching an eyebrow.
“Can a man change?” I asked, giving her a crooked smile.
Seraphina nodded thoughtfully. “Sure, but you’re doing things on your own—including cooking. That’s very un-Ehrenberg of you,” she said, lips quirking into an almost-smile.
The waffle maker began beeping. I opened it up, inhaling the mouthwatering scent before plating it.
“Don’t I get a good morning kiss?” I asked with a playful grin, handing her the plate. “Toppings are on the table.”
Seraphina set the waffle down and turned back to me, eyes glinting. She sauntered over, sliding her arms around my neck. “I suppose you’ve earned one,” she murmured before capturing my lips with hers.
I pulled her close, losing myself in the soft sweetness of the kiss. Her fingers threaded through my hair as our mouths moved in languid sync, unhurried. Kissing her felt like coming home, like finding a vital piece of myself.
When we finally drew apart, foreheads touching, the rest of the world came back into focus. Her eyes shone up at me, warm with affection. “Now that’s a good morning,” she whispered.
Chuckling, I pressed one more quick kiss to her nose before releasing her. “Better eat your waffle before it gets cold.”
She took a blissful bite, savoring it. “You’ve outdone yourself,” she mused, spearing another piece and offering it to me. I leaned in, taking it directly from her fork.
Then, I cut a piece of waffle and lifted it to her lips. She accepted, eyes burning into mine. The air hummed electric between us. Unable to resist, I kissed her, our lips glazed sweetly with syrup. The world beyond vanished.
Drawing back, I rested my forehead against hers, pulse racing. “I love you, baby.”
“Love you more,” she whispered, eyes smoldering.
Her words sparked an ache inside me, an all-consuming need to show her the depth of my devotion. To lay her down and worship every inch of her, paint poetry across her skin with my hands and mouth until she understood the extent she owned me, body and soul.
Yet hesitation held me back, knowing we should take this slow, savor every step. What we shared was still so new, so fragile. I would wait eons for her if needed. Because she was infinitely more than that to me. Seraphina St. Clairmont was my redemption, my reason for living, my entire world.
She was worth waiting for, worth everything.
Chapter Twenty
Brahms
(Now)
Sweat drips down my temple as I grind through my daily workout with Marcus. Even with the leg cast and useless hand, he has me doing endless crunches and core exercises that last for hours.
I squeeze my eyes shut, muscles screaming as I force myself to do just one more crunch. And then another. The effort leaves me utterly spent.
“He should work on fine motor skills, too,” I hear Seraphina say. I glimpse her in the doorway as I collapse, chest heaving.
