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Side boob. Top boob. My nipples hard because Atlas was looking at me.
He put his hands on the counter and actually bit at his bottom lip.
I sighed and walked toward him.
“Come on, say good morning,” I said.
His hands touched my stomach. His mouth moved toward mine.
I grabbed his wrists and moved them to my chest.
“I’m not blind, you idiot,” I said. “You were staring at my boobs. So just say good morning. Then go get me a hoodie. Then explain why you didn’t make breakfast.”
When his hands touched my boobs, my toes curled and I let out a surprisedohsound.
Atlas’s thumbs moved over my nipples in a hurry.
I jumped back. “Okay, that’s enough.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks for two reasons.
One was the obvious.Atlas was touching me.
The second?
I had a weird feeling in my chest all of a sudden.
A bit of arushingfeeling.
Like my boobs were…going to leak…
Atlas walked away and got me a hoodie.
I swam in the thing but it was comfy and smelled like him.
“First off,” he said to me, “I didn’t feel like making breakfast. So I didn’t. Nothing shocking, okay? You looked so beautiful sleeping and I watched you for a little bit.”
I shook my head. “Don’t watch me sleep. Ever. This isn’t some cheap romantic comedy movie, Atlas. That’s weird.”
“Well, I was watching parts of you,” he smirked.
“Oh, wow. Waiting for a boob to fall out?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re…”
“What?” Atlas cut in. “Huh? What?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just nothing.”
Atlas hit a home run -or scored fifty hockey goals- with his choice of breakfast.
Greasy sandwiches on flaky croissants.
Egg, bacon and cheese.
Egg, sausage and cheese.
