Love Lust & Lies

Chapter 9

Morning light trickled through the blinds, casting soft, warm stripes across the room. It was quiet—the storm of last night's passion seemed to have swept away every sound except for the faint rustle of sheets.

He lay beside me, a contented half-smile curving his lips as he nestled his cheek into the crook of his bicep. The sheets had slipped, revealing the gentle curve of his back, and sunlight kissed his skin, gilding him in a halo of warmth.

His eyes fluttered open, a playful glint peeking through. "I can feel you staring, you know," he murmured, his voice a low, sleepy drawl.

Heat crept into my cheeks, and I ducked behind the sheets, peering out with a mock-shy grin. "I wasn't exactly hiding it. Can't I admire my man?"

His chuckle was soft, stirring the quiet morning air, and the room felt suspended in a dreamlike peace, wrapped in the tender aftermath of the night before.

He rolled to his side, the morning light catching the tousle of his hair—a perfect mess a signifier of our amazing sex. His gaze, light and playful, drifted from my eyes down to the curve of his own chest, where I couldn't help but linger. "I do have a face, you know," he giggled.

Meeting his eyes, a flutter ran through my heart. "I know, but I can't help but to stare.." I propped myself up, the sheets clutched at my chest in a modest shield. "I'm free today. Did you want to do something?"

His smile faltered slightly, the glow in his eyes dimming. "I'd like you to go with me to meet someone."

A chill traced my spine, the words hanging with an uneasy weight. "Ok, but who?"

He stared at the ceiling, his expression clouding. I couldn't shake the flurry of dreadful scenarios that raced through my mind—secret families, hidden pasts.

"I'd like you to meet my little sister." His voice was tinged with hesitance, a rarity for him. He had only mentioned her in passing, her existence almost a shadow in our conversations. His family, a tapestry of high-profile careers and private strife, was a topic he navigated with caution.

"You want me to meet your sister? I'd love to," I said, infusing my tone with warmth, hoping to dispel the tension. His arms wrapped around me, his head resting against my stomach, seeking reassurance in the embrace. My fingers combed through his hair, each stroke meant to soothe.

As he busied himself with breakfast, I stepped into the shower. The warm water washed away the remnants of our night, prepping me not just for the day but for whatever lay ahead.

Breakfast unfolded simply: two strips of bacon, a fried egg, and a slice of avocado toast between us. Our conversation flowed as if we'd been together for years instead of mere weeks. His presence was a gentle calm, an assurance that covered me, making me feel both safe and profoundly cherished. I reveled in the warmth of feeling valued, a stark contrast to the hollow doubts of my past.

"I'm going to go take a shower," he murmured, his lips brushing my forehead before he left the kitchen. I watched him go, admiring the perfect V of his back as he moved. He was a sculpted ideal, each step echoing a quiet strength.

I settled in the living room, flipping through the latest WEBTOON comics to pass the time. When the sound of a wind chime drew my attention—it was his phone vibrating with notifications. Ordinarily, I wouldn't pry; his life as the son of a prominent family was inevitably busy. Yet, the repeated chime tugged at my concern; emergencies were not uncommon in his world.

Curiosity overcame me, and I ascended the stairs to fetch his phone. Regret prickled at my decision the moment I saw the screen's message. I shouldn't have looked.