Whisper Destiny

Chapter 70

~ Natasha ~

When I open my eyes, I'm greeted by a sight worth more than any fortune—a view I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. It's Catherine, lying peacefully beside me, her golden hair tousled and scattered across the pillow, her lips slightly parted, breathing softly in her sleep. This is the sight I want to wake up to every morning, for the rest of my life. It isn't flawless; there's a gentle, messy humanness to it, the kind that makes her feel so real.

In sleep, she's unguarded, stripped of the poise and perfection she presents to the world. This is a side of Catherine that few ever see, and the privilege of witnessing it makes my heart ache.

My gaze drifts down to our bodies, still entangled in the aftermath of our night together. Slowly, carefully, I start to pull myself away, cautious not to wake her. She looks so serene, so blissfully untouched by the worries and expectations that cling to her in the daylight.

As I ease myself free, a delicious ache blooms in my muscles, a gentle reminder of the wild night we shared. The memory rushes back with a force that makes my heart skip. This time was different—deeper, more raw, more intimate. It wasn't just about the physical; it was a connection that ran soul-deep. I know she felt it too; I could see it in her eyes, in the way she held on to me. Whatever this is between us, it's undeniable.

I stretch quietly, and then my eyes fall back to her, unable to look away.

I let myself savor every detail, every inch of her. She's breathtakingly beautiful, the kind of beauty that draws people in without her even trying. It's no wonder so many people are captivated by her, hoping to bask in her light, even for just a moment. The thought stirs a pang of jealousy in me—a quiet, possessive urge to keep her all to myself.

My fingers move almost instinctively, tracing the gentle curves of her body, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my touch, soft and inviting.

She stirs slightly, and I freeze, wondering if her eyes will open, if those brilliant blue eyes will meet mine. But instead, she simply shifts, lets out a soft sigh, and settles back into sleep. A small smile tugs at my lips as I watch her, grateful to steal a few more minutes of this private, quiet moment.

In the past few days, I've discovered so many little details about her—small, secret facets of her personality that she keeps hidden from the world. One of the most surprising, and endearing, is how much she's not a morning person. When she finally wakes up, she's always groggy and adorably disoriented, her hair a tangled mess and her expressions unfiltered, far from the polished Catherine Ortiz the world knows. This side of her is so unguarded, so soft, and it's another one of the things that I love ablut her.

My stomach growls, a gentle but insistent reminder of how late it's gotten. Sunlight spills through the window, warm and bright. I reach across the bed for my phone to check the time but realize it's nowhere in sight. Instead, I spot Catherine's phone resting on her side, so I lean over, careful not to jostle her too much. She lets out a grumble of disapproval, and I can't help but smile.

It's nearly ten. No wonder my stomach's starting to protest.

I glance back at her, and a quiet ache settles in my chest. She looks so peaceful, so untouched by the world. Part of me wants to let her sleep a little longer, to grant her this extra bit of rest after all the raw, emotional moments we shared last night.

But after a few moments of silent debate, I decide she could use a little breakfast, too. She must be as worn out as I am, and a meal would help restore her strength. Leaning close, I brush a feather-light kiss against her cheek, inhaling the faint, comforting scent of her.

"Babe..." I whisper softly, right by her ear. "Wake up."

She buries her face deeper into the pillow, evading me. I try again, nudging gently, "Come on, beautiful. Open those gorgeous eyes for me." I run a hand through her hair, lightly stroking her scalp.