Beneath Silk Sheets (18+) || Paul Lahote

Thirty Five | Camellia

"Crawl inside this body-
find me where I am most ruined,
love me there."
—Rune Lazuli | Excerpt

• • •

"Baby, slow down." Paul warned as he anxiously watched a hyperactive Bailey twirl and flit about his typically unused kitchen with all the grace of a bumbling little worker-bee. "If you're not careful you're gonna burn yourself and I really don't feel like making a trip to the hospital so early on in the morning."

Sighing heavily, Bailey tuned down her skipping to a subdued trudge. "Fine," she pouted, sticking her tongue out at him childishly to which he only smirked. "Since you asked so nicely," she retorted under her breath.

Ignoring her sarcasm and fighting the urge to get up and kiss away her pretty pout, Paul nodded once. "Thank you."

Bailey only huffed.

It was the next morning and the Imprint pair had awoken to blue-hued rays of sun peeking in through the curtains of Paul's bedroom window. It cast a veil of shadows across the room and as if their bodies had been synced to the same circadian rhythm and their subconscious's linked for good measure, they opened their eyes at the gradual change in lighting and made sleep-ridden eye contact almost instantaneously.

'G'morning,' Bailey had greeted softly as she snuggled further into the warmth of his arms.

Paul simply hummed and tangled one of his legs between both of hers. 'Don't say it,' he'd grumbled as he buried his nose in her hair and nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head. 'Too comfortable to get up right now.'

'Paul-' Bailey had whined when he suddenly rolled on top of her and wrapped himself around her like a child does a teddy bear. She heaved a breath and prodded at his shoulders weakly. 'You're gonna squish me,' she protested around a groggy whimper. 

Paul simply buried his head against her chest and shifted so the brunt of his weight fell on her legs and not her abdomen. 'There,' he grumbled, the deep tenor of his voice muffled against the cotton of her oversized shirt. 'I'm not squishin' you anymore,' he placated grumpily. 'Now go back to sleep.'

Bailey huffed and tried to protest once more, but before she could even finish whining his name, Paul interrupted her mid-word. 'Shh, baby.' He hushed her. 'Sleep.'

Then two hours and thirty minutes later, the Imprint pair had finally ambled their way down the hallway and into the kitchen for something to eat.

"I don't understand why you even insisted on cooking anyway," Paul grumbled as he shot Bailey a pointed look when she slipped on her sock covered feet and caught herself on the counter-top before she fell. "The diner is right down the road and I already told you I don't mind carrying you there."

Bailey pouted and proceeded to watch over the eggs scrambling in the pan on the stove. "I always cook breakfast for Papa and Bella in the mornings so I wanted to cook breakfast for you too." She explained breezily, absentmindedly waving the spatula she held in the air in little circles beside her head. "And my leg doesn't hurt that bad anymore, Paul. In fact, I-I barely even walk with a limp now!"

"Well I guess I just like to be cautious, alright? But this is the only time," he grunted upon hearing Bailey squeal when the grease in the pan of bacon sizzling beside her popped and hit her on the arm. Paul rose from his seat and stalked her way with a scowl before taking her arm in his hands despite her many protests that she was fine. His eyes scanned the little speckles of burnt red skin and a low growl rumbled in the back of his throat. "Baby..." he warned.