But all your flaws and scars are mine

Chapter 2

After replying a quick "you're welcome" and "night" back to Sansa I fell into a deep sleep.

My alarm wakes me too early and it's only then I remember my plan of going into the office. Fuck that shit. I'm still drained and quickly call Bronn to tell him about the elevator (minus Sansa for now) and let him know I'll try to be there around lunch time.

After laughing at my expense over the lift debacle, my best friend and business partner tells me not to worry and he'll see me when he sees me. The man drives me bonkers sometimes but I wouldn't be here without him.

Thankfully I'm able to resume my slumber for a couple more hours before my stomach and bladder demand I get up. A long piss later, I hop in the shower and instantly I'm bombarded with images of Sansa.

After not dreaming of her last night, I thought maybe I could escape the hold I could feel her taking on me. No such fucking luck apparently.

I hate myself for it but my hand instantly grasps my cock and starts stroking. The memories from last night are so vivid it's like I'm with her. I can smell her hair, feel her body against mine during our hug. Sansa's laugh and voice drift through my mind as if she's next to me and it's so bloody real I cum quickly, coating the glass wall of my shower in streaks of white.

Taking my time I scrub myself red, still feeling dirty by the end of it, before drying and dressing for the day and it's still only ten, I'm shit at sleeping.

Between the long, late night and my emotions over Sansa running wild, I feel reminiscent of a zombie.

I pull my grey long sleeved polo over my head when there's a knock at my front door. My first instinct is to be on the defensive. I don't often have company and if do, I'm aware they're coming ahead of time. Deciding against grabbing my hand gun from the nightstand, I tread barefoot across my flat to see who's bothering me.

As soon as I open the door I realize I'm about to be the bloody opposite of bothered.

Standing on my threshold, looking more beautiful than I remember, is Sansa Stark and I can't stop myself from soaking her in.

Her hair is on top of her head, looking damp, the black leather jacket she's wearing over a white shirt has her skin glowing in contrast. Those legs that I would kill to have wrapped around my waist, or face, are covered in skin tight ripped jeans and the heels on her boots still don't have her passing my chin.

"Good morning! I'm so glad you're still home."

"Uh, you are?" I'm honestly puzzled.

"Of course! Otherwise I would be drinking and eating all of this alone." Sansa nods towards her tray of coffee cup and bags of treats.

She doesn't let me reply before she's rambling on. Gods, how could I have missed her voice already?

"I couldn't wait until our dinner to show you how much I appreciate you for last night. And I remembered you said something about not making it to work on time today so I thought I'd push my luck and see if you had left yet."