Beasty | First Draft Sample

18

Consciousness came knowing in slowly, lazily unwrapping sleep's arms from around me touching me as sleep sunk away, detaching itself from my senses, falling down to wait for the next time we would meet. Consciousness came to me with slow soft caresses, in shapes of circles and twirls, it came with a finger drawing shapes on my arm.

It came with low mumbles, and almost whispered orders. I blinked as the last remnant of sleep slipped away and the feel of a hard chest against my cheeks became clear to my mind. The smell of soap and a musky cologne filtered into my nostrils and I automatically inched closer, the top of my nose brushing against the slightly brittle skin, I wrinkled my nose, closing my eyes for a second as I snuggled into the comfort. Romanov's strong grip around me, caressing slow circles on my arm made me feel warm, safe.

A soft smile on my lips I pressed my lips to the skin of Romanov's neck, but froze when I felt him still against me, the low mumble stopping for a second before I felt him relax, and it began again. My eyes still closed, I frowned, then slowly open them again, quickly realising I was not in bed. Eyes wide I looked up to see Romanov's strong jaw, a serious expression on his face as he talked to someone in front him. Immediately my head snapped down, digesting the fact that I was in Romanov's lap, curled up against him, a white blanket wrapped around me — while he sat in his office and worked. That I had been there, asleep, while he had worked.

Romanov seemed to be talking, but everything suddenly felt on mute as I slowly turned, and froze, feeling my cheeks redden instantly.

Seated across Romanov's table, Dom and Grayson's eyes met mine and I almost swore under my breath when I noticed the amused twinkles in their eyes.

"Good morning," Grayson nodded, before he picked up a black file and getting out of the seat, strode towards the closed door and left. My eyes widened slightly, seeing him in a suit for the first time.

"Good morning, Olli," Dominic mumbled softly, eyes moving behind me as he nodded before picking his own files and following after Grayson.

"Morning," I replied lamely into the air, not clearly sure who I was even say that to. I froze when I felt the strong arms around me tighten. Romanov's chin lowered until he pressed his lips to my forehead, just keeping his lips there.

"Good morning," Romanov mumbled into my forehead, his tone not giving anything away.

I shook my head. Refusing to talk. Morning breath was never a wonderful thing to make someone, especially your soulmate—deal with your morning breath.

"You're not going to talk?" Romanov asked, a crinkle of amusement in his voice.

I shook my head again. Slightly mortified and confused. I was not going to talk until I brushed.

"Not even if I tell you your arm's poking against a wound from last night?" Romanov asked again, his voice suddenly gruff and serious.

A loud squeak left my lips as I jolted forward, trying to remove myself from him, last night's memories flooding in through the slow blur, quickly. I twisted as Romanov's arms around me tightened and pulled me back into him.

"Don't. I need you close."

It was only a mere whisper. His warm breath against my neck. His lips brushing against the suddenly hot skin. But I still froze. But it still swept my breath away.

I sighed as I felt myself involuntarily ease against him again, curling back in his arms, closing my eyes. I felt as Romanov's posture changed, and he relaxed in his seat. Then slowly the sound of his pen scribbling came back, and I sighed again. What was even going on?