❝𝒎𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒊𝒑𝒆𝒊𝒔.❞
(you're missing from me.)
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𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔
Iva Laurent lost her parents when she was eight. Sold to the black market by her only relative left on this earth, she was l...
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LONDON January Location: Iva's Apartment
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I couldn't remember the last time I got to luxuriate myself with another kind of warmth that felt even better than bed warmers. Wiggling closer to the source of heat, I draped my leg over to the pillow beside me that even smelled amazing. The shape was a little off, but I was glad that I managed to nestle in a comfortable position for myself to continue snoozing.
"Still a cuddler." A raspy chuckle echoed in my ears and realisation struck me like lightning, jolting me awake as my eyes flew open to the curve of a neck. The warmth of skin against mine was causing a wave of rising embarrassment within me. Holy crap.
I stilled. Somewhere in the corner of my brain hoped that I could disentangle myself from him right now and hide from the world forever, while the rest of it was savouring the heat of his skin against mine, and slowly replacing cobwebs of sleep in my consciousness with those of hazy desire.
Blame it on the remainders of alcohol left in my system, but I was feeling weirdly courageous. I lifted the hand that was curled against his trim side and my fingers smoothed along the length of his neck, touching lightly on the apple of his throat. It took him by surprise when I felt him flinched and worked on a nervous swallow.
"Iva," he called my name with a cautionary tone and his hand gripped onto my wrist to stop me from touching him unnecessarily.
"Why are you here?" I mumbled softly, stubbornly keeping my leg over his body because I had wanted to enjoy the warmth of a company a little longer.
"You missed training and you wouldn't pick up my call nor Vivienne's," he responded, then his tone turned serious all of a sudden. "I invited myself in with the passcode Vivienne gave me and you were writhing in pain on the bed. Now, ask me why am I here?"
"Thanks and sorry," I shrugged a little. "I have weird dreams sometimes. But for all I know, it doesn't kill and I wouldn't have died from it."
"No more alcohol for you," he warned in a chastising tone. "You reeked of it when I found you."
"Gee, you're no fun," I sulked, falling silent straightaway.
His hand still gripped onto one of my wrists, so I used the other hand of mine to roam along his broad shoulders and delighted in the heat of his skin against my naturally cold fingers. Again, I felt him shuddering at my touch and his hand playfully lifted to my face to pinch lightly on my cheek. He grinned boyishly, "Haven't you touched enough yet?"
I frowned, slapping on the back of his hand and he released immediately. But I quickly grabbed onto the hand and rested it against my cheek, continuing to enjoy the comfort of his touch. Angling my head slightly, I landed a small kiss into his palm and murmured his name, "Jax."
