Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
"I'm a little unstable, I swear love is fatal, then fall head first for almost anyone."
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I had woken up long before Harlan had, completed my assignments and practiced my dance routine before starting to make breakfast since I had been running on a cup of coffee.
Just as I placed the waffles in a plate, I felt someone else's presence in the kitchen and looked up to see Harlan watching me thoughtfully.
"Morning," I chirped and saw him move towards me since I was standing on the other side of the kitchen island, "Did you sleep well?"
His hand touched my face, turning my face to look at him as he leaned down and planted a soft and lingering kiss to my lips, my hand going up to hold his wrist as my eyes fluttered shut.
Woah, that was fast.
"Good morning, butterfly." He whispered, kissing me once more before pulling away to stand behind me and wrap his arms around my body, he leaned on me but was careful not to put all his weight on my back.
I caught his hand with one of mine as he joined our fingers, being extra touchy as his lips touched the back of my head again and again.
His warm breath ghosted over the back of my neck while I found myself melting into his arms.
"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning my head to look up at him when he hummed, his eyes zeroing in on my lips when he leaned down in the slightest but as if catching himself, pulled back and moved behind to sit down on the stool.
"Not for what you're making." He muttered when I frowned.
"I could make something else for you, if you want." I offered and heard his amused and breathy chuckle as he shook his head and pulled me by my waist, placing me on his lap as if he was my personal seat.
And a very comfortable one at that.
"Not for that, my darling girl." He whispered and pulled the plate of waffles closer before pouring the chocolate syrup on half of them.
"Then for what?" I asked as his hot lips pressed on the side of my neck and I barely held in a gasp as my hand formed a fist.
"Isn't that obvious? I just took a cold shower because of you, butterfly." He murmured almost accusingly and I frowned.
"What did I ever do to you?" I turned my head to look at him as he cut up the waffle and brought a piece to my mouth using the fork, making me eat.
"You come into my dreams, looking like the perfect little sin for me to commit," He traced the sharp tip of the fork along my bottom lip as I swallowed with difficulty, "You could make an angel sin and the devil repent."
I watched how poetically the words slipped past his lips, enchanting me as his Italian accent made my head spin and his voice settled low in my tummy like a dull hum.
