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Am I being overbearing? Probably.
But I honestly can’t imagine my life without her in it. If anything, I’ve forgotten how I used to live before she came along.
I brush my lips against her forehead before I begrudgingly leave her side and step into my closet.
After putting on a tuxedo, I stand in front of the mirror to do my bowtie. While I hate to leave Aurora’s side, I have a banquet to attend.
She’s out for the night after the thorough fucking and bath massage.
Besides, if I even attempt to skip tonight, Harris will show up here and bitch for an hour about meetings like the workaholic he is.
It’s strange that I used to be exactly like him — if not more demanding — but now, the idea of leaving takes all my self-restraint.
Tiny hands wrap around my chest from behind as her warmth glues to my back.
Aurora’s head peeks from the side and she meets my gaze in the mirror. “Going somewhere?”
“Work.”
“What happened to ‘we’ll stay in bed all day?’” She tries to hide her disappointment from her overly expressive eyes and fails. She can be so adorable sometimes.
“Didn’t we, wild one?”
“Well, not really.”
“I think your arse and pussy would testify otherwise.”
She hides her face against my jacket to camouflage the flaming of her cheeks. I get the urge to grab her and kiss the fuck out of her.
So I do just that.
Spinning around, I wrap my hand around her throat. Her dark blue eyes meet mine, wide, expectant, and I meet those expectations when I slam my lips to hers.
I lost count of how much I’ve kissed her but each time she melts against me, her tiny fingers wrapping around my bicep or nape, it feels like a first.
And like every first, I feast on her luscious lips, grabbing her by the arse and pulling her against my trousers.
I’m rock hard again. Fuck.
Pulling away, I breathe against her mouth without releasing neither her arse nor throat. “Go back to sleep.”
“Do you not want me with you?”
“What the fuck is that nonsense?”
“Well…” she stares at her feet. “You don’t take me with you to events or even invite me.”
I place two fingers underneath her chin, forcing her to stare up at me. “Didn’t you say you don’t want to take part in anything that has to do with ‘my world?’”
“That was before. I thought…”
“You thought what?”
“I thought you were embarrassed to have me on your arm.”
“Why would I be embarrassed?”
“You’re not the type to be embarrassed, but, you know.”
