Carved in Her Bones

present- Peter

I woke to Rhian's hand resting on my chest, her hair—which had somehow rearranged itself overnight—spilling across my face in soft, disheveled waves. Her warm breath fanned gently against my neck in steady, soft beats. Her small legs were entwined with mine, locking us together as if she'd drifted into my space in her sleep and never wanted to leave.

It was 10 a.m.—only four hours after we'd finally fallen into bed. I glanced over at her peaceful face, tempted to wake her just to see those eyes looking up at me. Her first class was in two hours, I noted, pulling up her schedule. She'd looked so content beside me that I hadn't needed sleeping pills for the first time in years. The usual noise in my head was silent. I felt almost...whole, simply lying here, watching her breathe.

I debated texting my assistant to cancel my day, but stopped myself, suddenly unwilling to return home later and find her gone. Would she think it too forward if I wanted to see her again tonight? Should I hold back to avoid overwhelming her? The urge to keep her here as long as possible was powerful, almost too strong to resist.

Carefully, I slipped out of bed, leaving her asleep in our bed, a thought that filled me with quiet satisfaction. In the shower, my mind wandered to her, and I stopped myself from indulging in old habits, feeling that my touch would no longer be enough. I'd kissed her, held her...nothing else would suffice. Not anymore.

After dressing in a suit, I moved into the kitchen to prepare her tea. I'd taken note: she didn't drink coffee, preferring her tea hot, black, with just a splash of milk. I made it perfectly, adding a paracetamol on the side, just in case. Bringing the tea to her bedside, I paused, studying her in the gentle morning light. She looked unreal, like a vision that might fade if I dared to blink.

I leaned down to brush a soft kiss across her cheek, nudging her awake. She blinked up at me, confused at first, before smiling and inhaling the steam rising from the cup I'd made her. As she sipped, she must have felt my eyes on her, because she lifted a hand to try and tame her hair, though it was endearing in its untamed state.

"Leave it like that," I murmured, the words coming out firmer than I intended. I saw her expression shift, realizing how much I wanted her—just as she was.

"You look beautiful in the morning."

Her gaze flicked over me, taking in my fully dressed state. "You're ready to go."

"I'll drive you to school," I replied, already planning the best route in my head.

"I really should shower first," she said, glancing down, a slight blush rising in her cheeks. "Can you just drop me at my dorm?"

"You can shower here." I held her gaze, my voice unyielding.

"But I don't have clothes..."

"I have some things here that should fit you," I said, letting the words linger, gauging her reaction.

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "I'm not wearing anything your exes or one-night stands left behind."

I suppressed a smile. I'd bought her an entire wardrobe after our first date, with the help of my assistant. When Clarissa had questioned me about why I wanted a wardrobe full of women's clothes, I'd simply shrugged, unwilling to explain. "They're not from any ex, and I don't do one-night stands... anymore."

She held my gaze, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Fine, let's see if they're even my size."

I led her to the walk-in closet, watching her expression change as she took in the half of it that was filled entirely with clothes I'd chosen for her. Dresses, jeans, tops, even lingerie—everything picked to suit her style.

"These are all my size..." she murmured, running her hand over the fabrics, opening a drawer to find neat stacks of clothes waiting for her. She looked back at me, her expression unreadable. "How did you know?"

I met her gaze steadily. "Research."

A flicker of something crossed her face, but she only shrugged, seemingly undisturbed. "Alright then. Pick something out for me? I really need that shower."

Before I could respond, she disappeared into the bathroom. Smiling to myself, I chose a pair of fitted jeans, a matching lingerie set, and an AC/DC t-shirt like the one she wore in a few of her Instagram photos, something casual and relaxed, but uniquely her.

When she re-emerged, dressed in the clothes I'd chosen, the sight of her left me breathless. She gave me a wry smile, half-amused, as if she could see the full extent of my obsession—something I couldn't fully hide. And for now, I was content to let her see just enough of it.

For now, I'd wait. Let her catch up to me, if she could.