Her Home, His Heart | ✓

☆*✿FORTY-SIX (46)❀*★

♪♪ Get used to me falling through, just to see your face.

There ain't a moment I won't need your brace

Get used to me touching you

Get used to me loving you♪♪

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ [Get used to it] - [Justin Bieber]

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Esmé steered awake, lightly groaning, giving herself time to adjust to the light in the room. The strength around her waist and the muscular surface beneath her body, a vast difference from the soft cushioned couch, brought a smile that grew on her lips once the events of the day drifted to the forefront of her mind.

She raised her head slightly from their position on Kian's chest to look at him. The book that lay open on his face made her smile even more.

They began the day with a decision to just relax since there were both free for the majority of the time. After eating, Kian suggested reading to them, which was where they both fell asleep.

Though now that she was awake, she wasn't pretty sure it was listening to him read to her that got her to fall asleep but she lost track of things the moment she placed her head on his chest; just listening to the peaceful beat of his heart did the magic.

With as much movement as the hand around her waist let her, she removed the book from his face carefully and placed it on the table by the side.

Turning back to him, she was grateful for the light to take in the peaceful sight before her that the darkness in the theatre room the previous night prevented her from appreciating.

His brown-sugar hair stood in all directions, augmenting his messy look. His forehead lacked any crease and made him look like a cute little child having the best sleep of his life.

Kian's rhythmic breathing changed as his lips curled into a smile just before he opened his eyes.

The smile increased once Kian's obsidian blue eyes settled on her.

"Morning." His husky voice reverberated through his body to hers. "You really don't have to make it obvious that I'm a sight to drool for." He raised his hands to clean off a non-existent drool from the side of her lips.

She swatted his hands away and with a teasing glint, Esmé raised both eyebrows and asked, "You are?"

"You want to deny that?" he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes and without giving her a chance to reply, he tickled her till she was a mess of laughter.

"S- st- stop, stop. F- fine! Bed hair looks wonderful on you."

He laughed. The sound rumbled through their tangled bodies.

"I'm serious, actually. It's quite an honour to see it up close. The first time was good, but this is definitely better."

His laughter ceased as he narrowed his eyes at her. "The first time?"

She groaned, throwing her head backwards, realizing the secret she just let out.

"I'm very curious now that I see your reluctance to tell me."

With a sheepish smile on her lips, she rolled her eyes at him before giving in. "It was the day I gave you that letter and made you breakfast for the first time."

His face brightened up and the corner of his lips quirked up, remembering the letter he had carefully placed in a drawer in his room. "The 'To my jailer host' letter?"