Falling into the Chaos

Twenty Seven: UGH! This woman.

Aditya

I woke up to warmth.

A soft weight against my chest, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the scent of her lingering shampoo mixing with my T-shirt—my wife wrapped around me like she belonged here.

Which she did.

Zoya.

I kept my eyes closed for a moment, savoring the feeling. It wasn't just the warmth of her body, or the way her fingers had curled slightly into my side in sleep—it was this. Waking up to her. Holding her. Knowing she was safe in my arms.

And knowing I couldn't have her the way I wanted to.

The way we both wanted to.

Last night had been... dangerous. The way she had looked at me when she walked out of the shower wearing my shirt—so damn tempting. 

The way she had curled up against me, her body soft and warm, her breaths steadying against my chest. I had wanted to flip her over, pin her beneath me, and kiss every inch of her until she was breathless.

But I couldn't.

Not until she was mine in every way that mattered.

And now, in the golden morning light spilling through the curtains, she was still tangled around me, her face pressed to my neck, her leg hooked lazily over my thigh.

God help me.

I shifted slightly, and she let out a soft sound—half a sigh, half a sleepy protest—and tightened her hold on me.

I couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at my lips.

"Zoya..." I murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

She hummed in response, but didn't wake up.

I exhaled slowly, my fingers grazing over the curve of her back before forcing myself to still. If I kept touching her, I wouldn't be able to stop.

I was about to get up when I felt it—a soft sigh against my skin, warm and lazy.

Then, her lips.

A barely-there brush against my neck.

I stilled.

My whole body tensed as her fingers curled against my chest, her warmth pressing back into me. I looked down, and there she was—eyes still heavy with sleep, lips parted, completely unaware of what she was doing to me.

"Zoya," I rasped, my voice hoarse from restraint.

Her lashes fluttered, her lips pressing against my collarbone this time—slow, unhurried, like she was still lost in that space between sleep and wakefulness.

My grip on the sheets tightened.

"Morning..." she murmured, her voice drowsy, slurred.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat pooling in my stomach. "Morning."

Her fingers trailed up lazily, slipping beneath the fabric of my T-shirt—the same one she had worn to bed. Her touch was light, teasing. Testing.

She had no idea how close I was to losing it.

"You're up early..." she mumbled against my skin, her lips grazing the hollow of my throat now.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to remain still. "Yeah... trying to stay sane."

She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against my skin. "And failing?"