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Angel was in front of me, shirtless, his skin warm beneath my hands. His lips were soft, parting under mine as I kissed down the curve of his jaw, his chest, slow and deliberate. He was laughing at first, teasing, but then his breath hitched and his eyes fluttered shut as he pulled me closer.
The way he looked up at me, flushed and needy, made something in my chest twist. I touched him like I already knew every inch of him, like he was mine. And in the dream, he was.
I hovered above him, our bodies pressed close, the air hot with tension. My name spilled from his mouth in a way that made my whole body buzz. I was about to push into him causing his legs wrapped around me tight—
BZZZT BZZZT BZZZT
My alarm blared from the nightstand.
I groaned loud enough to shake the room and slapped it off. The dream shattered, slipping through my fingers like sand.
"Damn," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. My heart was still racing, and the very obvious erection straining against my joggers made it worse.
I sat at the edge of the bed, frustrated and groggy, trying to catch my breath. For a moment, I debated just laying back down but I had to open the shop soon.
Getting up, I headed toward the bathroom, muttering under my breath about cruel timing. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to ground myself, but that dream lingered.
As I was halfway through brushing my teeth, my phone buzzed again.
Jela: "You ignoring me now? We need to talk. I'm not playing."
I stopped mid brush, staring at the screen.
Why is her ass even up this early?
The buzz I had from the dream dissolved completely. That itch of anxiety crept up my spine. Not again.
I rinsed my mouth and tossed the toothbrush down harder than I needed to.
Every time I was good and peaceful, she popped back up. I leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. I thought about Angel, his smile, his voice, the way he'd look at me when he didn't think I was paying attention. I didn't want anything to ruin that.
And Jela? She was a walking storm.
I put my phone down without responding. For now. I'd figure out what to do, but I wasn't letting her mess with my peace. Not again.
Especially not now not when Angel was finally starting to feel like something real.
⸻
By the time I got to the shop, I was already halfway in work mode. The weight of that text still lingered a bit in my chest, but as I unlocked the studio and stepped into my space, it started to lift.
This was mine.
The cutting tables, the fabric rolls stacked neatly in their corners, the sketches pinned up on the cork board, my world. My escape. My grind.
