My first crush (COMPLETED)√

Chapter 88: Everything was getting perfect.

Sharon POV

Morning light spilled through the curtains in soft golden streams, warming the sheets and brushing across my skin. I stirred awake slowly, wrapped in that hazy comfort between sleep and reality.

Stephen was still beside me, sprawled across the bed like he owned it — one leg draped lazily over my hips. I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me. Typical.

I turned slightly, studying him the way I never really allowed myself to when he was awake. His face was relaxed, free of the usual teasing arrogance. His lashes rested gently against his cheeks, and his lips were parted just enough to let out soft, even breaths.

He looked... peaceful. Cute, even.

My fingers moved before I could stop them, brushing lightly along his cheek. Warm skin. Familiar. Dangerous.

A low, sleepy moan slipped from his lips, and his eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine.

"Morning, babe," he murmured, biting his lip in that way that always made my heart do stupid things.

"Morning, Nutella."

His grin widened.
"Hm... I'm just that edible, aren't I?"

He pulled me closer, his arm sliding around my waist — hand resting possessively on my curves. I chuckled, shaking my head.

"I'm more of the eater, you know."

"What can I say?" His voice dropped, playful but warm. "Last night was legendary. You nearly destroyed me. I should write a book — The Good Girl Gone Bad."

I smacked his shoulder.

"Aww." He winced dramatically. "That hurts."

"You made me bad, cupcake," I whispered, teasingly catching his lower lip between my teeth.

His gaze softened as he kissed me slowly.

"And you don't regret it?"

"Not even once."

I tapped his side before sitting up, stretching as sunlight filled the room.

"Bad boy gone good," he murmured behind me.

I rubbed my belly, suddenly aware of the growing hunger clawing at me.

"It's breakfast time. I'm starving, Stephen."

He smirked.

"Playing that game again? Sorry to disappoint — you're cooking."

I blinked at him in disbelief.
"Why?!"

"Because you owe me. Remember ruining my shirt... and my favorite shoes?"

"Uhm... vaguely." I ran a hand through my messy hair.

"Good. Go make me dinner."

I gasped dramatically.
"Stephen... I thought you loved me. Is this how you treat your pregnant girl? You want to stress me? Dad must hear about this."

He groaned.

"Fine, fine. You win."

I smiled sweetly.
"Go make breakfast. The baby demands it."

"Yes, boss," he muttered, reaching for his phone.

A pause.

"Ten missed calls?"

"From who?" I asked, grabbing my own phone.

"Stiles."

I frowned.
"Bella called me twenty times last night... That's weird."