Forever Bound

Where Is Your Soulmate

A month has passed.

I feel like things are back to normal, but Warren gives me a feeling things are just getting started..

He is always busy, always stressed and always working. He doesn't give me much company, even when he comes over to my new apartment and sleeps on the couch or in my bed.

It was strange to me as to why he would knock on the door, greet me, and settle in on the couch or go to my room after having a small conversation. It was so weird to now have some some sort of routine with him, an explanation of him coming in . I feel that the only sleep he gets is when he is here. And when he leaves, he is back to working.

Like right now—he lays on his stomach, sprawled out across my bed with his arm dangling of the side.

It's late, and my best guess is that he will be getting up before the sun even rises. I'm not sure if he will even get up to eat. His jacket and vest has been removed, his shirt has risen from the hold of his belt.

"It's rude to stare," he says into the mattress.

I step into the room, and sigh. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

He folds his strong arms under her head, keeping his eyes closed. "Can you please just take all of this off..." I poke his side where his leather belt is, knowing it can't be comfortable.

His reply was a grumble that showed no interest in the belt, rolling over on his back, also giving me room to get into bed beside him.

"I left you a plate of food in the microwave incase you get up to eat in the middle of the night. Or you can save it for in the morning," I began to fiddle with his belt. His head jumped up from the bed his eyes wide awake now. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. His eyes settle again and his body relaxes—almost shivering.

"Thank you," he mumbles under his breath.

His hips raise while I pull the belt from under him. I sit with my legs under me as I pull his shift out and began to unbutton it. "What has you so tired lately?"

"Dario."

"Be careful, Warren," I whisper, looking at his perfect features, imagining the worst that could happen to them. Their isn't a single thing about him that isn't beautiful. Even the very faint scars that tried to ruin his face don't seem to make me want to turn away.

"Always," he presses his lips together. "Come to bed."

"Let me get the light—"

"No, I got it," he sucks in a sharp breath.

I watch his muscles in his stomach flex while he sets up with ease. For myself, I climb under the new red and black comforter. The room is bigger than my old one.

The floor is a soft, grey polyester carpet. My old white dresser and nightstand followed me here. New white curtains hang in the wall which were painted a color that was in between a cool blue/grey accent wall. This room even has a bay window that I was able to decorate with dark blue cushions and pillows.

"Do you need your pillow?" He asks me.

"No, I have you," I say making him smirk leisurely.

Warren got me a C-shaped pregnancy pillow. It's made sleeping a whole lot more comfortable for me. But one time we fell asleep and I left it in the living room. I had found a new way to sleep when Warren was beside me.

The room went dark. It took a while before Warren got back in the bed. I heard something fall to the floor. The bed dipped and I felt Warren take my wrist.