Heartstrings

(11) Kelly

Kelly

I woke up half-expecting I'd be alone in bed. That Mitchell will wake up and regret seeing me in his bed. I had half a mind to sneak off before that happens and do an ungraceful Walk of shame.

However, the feathery kisses on my shoulder that stirred me from sleep implied a different scenario. I opened my eyes and rolled all the way around, bumping into a hard, bare chest.

An arm drapes over my waist from under the sheets, stroking idly.

I gambled a glance to his face.

Soft, blue eyes met mine. His face is tender – just like all those times when I wake up next to him. There's no sign of regret either, so that's a plus.

He reaches over my face, fingers toying with my hair.

Anxiety twisted my stomach. "Mitchell?"

"It's me, silly." His mouth curved into a small smile.

I blink. "Oh."

He pushes me to my back, settling between my thighs. "You okay?"

"Some broken bones here and there." I batted my lashes at him.

Mitchell laughs.

My heart flutters.

I missed the sound of his laugh.

"Where are these broken bones?" His hands skimmed across patches of skin.

I shivered against his touch.

He leaned low, his mouth closing over the skin on my neck, leaving wet trails of kisses down my collarbone.

I arched my hips up, his hardness pressing against me since no one really wanted to put their clothes back on.

He groans.

I grinned.

"Are you being smug right now?" He narrowed his eyes.

I shake my head. "No."

I just miss having these mornings with you.

Mitchell lowers his head, claiming my mouth. He nudges my lips open and slid his tongue to deepen the kiss. He shifted his weight, the movement making his length rubbed up against me.

I moaned, wrapping my legs around his hips.

He laced our fingers and situated our hands above our heads. He rocked forward, filling me to the brim.

"Oh, God. Mitchell," I gasped, my back arching, hands gripping hid above our heads.

His head dropped beside mine on the pillow as he lavishes kisses down my cheek, his breath warm.

My legs tightened around him as he thrusts deeper, invading every part of me. He plunged into me again and again. His hardness slamming against my softness and his sweet invasion to every part of me created a delicious friction between us. My eyes squeeze shut as I felt the familiar pressure escalating.

His breath went rugged on my cheek and his thrusts becomes even harder and jerky.

I shattered around him.

He grunts as he pumps one more time then gave in to a violent shiver.

We panted, both breathing hard as we recover from the high.

Mitchell raises to his elbows, his blue eyes burning into mine.

My fingers itched to touch his face, maybe play with his dark hair curling at his neck, like I used to, but thought better of it. "Mitchell, I—"

"Breakfast?"

"Mitchell—"

"Banana pancake or Blueberry waffles?"

I stared at him, getting the hint that it was just right that we don't talk about it. There's so many things we can say to each other that will make this all go away. And I just don't want this to end. Not yet. "Blueberry waffles, please. Do you still make those eggnog cupcakes?"

He grins.

There was a tickle in my stomach. I smiled when I realized they were butterflies. Mitchell Foy is giving me butterflies. Like all those years ago.

Maybe it was the boyish grin combined with the mess of a bedhead that he effortlessly managed to convert into sexiness. Or maybe it was Mitchell and my feelings that I've only tucked away because they were impossible to get rid of.