16

Ignorance felt like a shot at happiness. So, as I stirred awake in his arms, I was hesitant to open my eyes. His breath was tickling my shoulder, and as I laid awake beneath the sheets with him—our limbs tangled together—I didn't want to let go. Nothing could pull me away from this moment.

Later, I would think about consequences and deal with whatever may come. Right now … right now, I wanted to bask in this ignorance. Didn't I deserve a moment like this? A single moment when I could be this happy. From last night, my body was still lethargic. My limbs felt like liquid, and my core ached from our night of making love.

Making love … or whatever that was. Having sex. Screwing. Fucking. I didn't care. As long as it was with him, I didn't care what we called it. Edward pulled me out of the darkness inside of myself that I always feared I would disappear in. How did I deserve this? How did I deserve him? Even if he were only mine for a night, I felt lucky.

Edward was quiet. Was he awake too? Did he also want to bask in this moment? Despite my curiosity, I didn't want to ruin anything by opening my eyes. He stirred next to me and untangled our limbs before moving to sit up. Then, reality began to sink in, and I opened my eyes before joining him in sitting back against the pillows.

"Good morning," he murmured with a voice still heavy with sleep.

He turned to me, and I answered him with a small smile. So quiet as he looked at me, I wondered if he were regretting our time together. Slowly, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and returned my smile.

"Want breakfast?"

His expression was just as open as it was the previous evening. Seeing this, I could breathe a little easier. As he slid out of bed, letting the sheets fall from his frame, I saw that he was still naked. Now that light was trickling through the blinds and the sun brought us the new day, I could see every line of his muscles and hair on his body.

With my back still against the pillows, I let myself leisurely gaze at the thick muscles of his thighs and strong, sculpted muscles of his calves. His legs were long and covered with light brown hair and led to one of the most perfect asses I had ever seen. His bottom was curved and muscular with little dimples above each cheek. His back was muscular as well, although, until the rest of him, there were slight imperfections.

These imperfections were the violent scars that were scattered across his muscles. He turned around, almost as if he could sense my stare and, by doing so, revealed more scars on his chest and abdominals. Were these from his accident? Every day when he looked at himself in the mirror was he faced with the unpleasant memory? He seemed thankful for the fact that I couldn't ask him anything about them as he reached down and snatched his T-shirt off the floor.

A flush colored my cheeks, and suddenly, I felt guilty for staring at him. My gaze found his cock for a moment, and I appreciated its length and girth even flaccid like this before I slipped out of the bed too, revealing my naked frame.

Edward stepped into his boxers, nearly stumbling as he took a moment to gaze at me. What did I look like to him? I was confident enough in my own body—despite my dimples and imperfections—but I still hoped he was pleased with what he saw. I hoped my naked frame would make him want more from me.

After a moment, he seemed shy about looking so intently at me and dropped his gaze before saying, "Your clothes should be ready. I'll go get them from the laundry room if you want to wait here for a moment. Then, I can make you some coffee and breakfast, if you'd like?"

I nodded before sitting back on the bed and covering myself in the sheets to wait for him.

"I'll be right back, then," he said before leaving the room.

He hadn't said anything at all about last night. Was he nervous? Shy? Was he having regrets? If only I could read his mind. So insecure myself, I was desperate to know what he was feeling. What would happen going forward? Would we never speak of this night between us again?

A minute passed before he arrived back with a stack of my folded laundry. During the short time he'd been gone, he had thrown on a hoodie, which was the most casual thing I'd ever seen him wear. Dressed down like this, he almost looked like a different person entirely. If it weren't for his expression, which was unreadable, his outfit would make him seem young and carefree.

I wished it wouldn't have been entirely inappropriate to snap a photo of him like this. After today, it would be hard to look at him like a stuffy bookstore owner in classic, expensive clothes and a dreary expression. There were so many sides to him I wasn't familiar with yet, and I wanted to know all of them.

"I'll give you a second to get dressed," Edward said as he placed my things down and backed away toward the door. "I'm going to go make some coffee for us and get breakfast going."

He seemed so different this morning. Maybe this was the first encounter he'd with a woman since his wife passed away. God, I wished I could open my mouth and reassure him. I'd tell him that I appreciated our time together and wouldn't expect anything else from him. I didn't want to push him further than he could handle—just like I didn't want him to push me.

We were both recovering. Although our traumas were different, pain was a universal feeling. I didn't have to live his experience to imagine how lost and devastated he felt. If this was new territory for him as it was for me, I had to be gentle.

There was no need to rush intimacy of any kind—physical or emotional. I'd rather things like that happen naturally. When we did … whatever we did last night—fucked, screwed, made love, whatever—every step felt like the natural progression of things. We wanted to touch each other. We needed to bring each other to orgasm. It all felt as natural as breathing. I hoped our emotional intimacy would be happy like that—like blinking or breathing in air. Then, I would really know this was something special.

With a smile, I slipped from beneath the covers and got dressed. It was strange to wear the clothes from last night because, this morning, I felt like an entirely different person. Now, these felt like garments that belonged to a stranger.

After leaving the guest bedroom, I ducked into the bathroom to freshen up. I wiped the leftover mascara from under my eyes and pinched my cheeks to give them a natural flush. I combed through my hair with my fingers before deciding this had to be good enough for now.

My mouth still tasted like pizza and Jack and Coke, so I fished around until I found a bottle of mouthwash. As I gargled it, I couldn't stop myself from looking at his bathroom products. Like the rest of the house, the bathroom was minimal and subdued. Had this home ever once been decorated?

Not wanting to spend too long away from him, I spit out the mouthwash, finished cleaning myself up, used the bathroom, and went out to greet him in his small breakfast nook. There was a table covered by a stack of magazines and a coffee pot in the back corner of his kitchen. I took a seat as he finished up frying some eggs. The smell made me stomach grumble, and I smiled to myself as I reached down and placed my hand over my belly.

"Almost done," Edward said as he turned off the stove and moved to grab some plates.

As he began to plate the food, I couldn't get over how much effort he had put into this. I had never had anyone make breakfast for me. Typically, I was happy with toast or just a bowl of cereal. It was always whatever I could manage. However, this morning, Edward wanted me to feel special.

Maybe I shouldn't worry so much. Things could be all right between us. Instead of this being the end, this might be a new beginning. We could have a whole life together. Or maybe I was getting too ahead of myself.

"The pot on the table is fresh," he said. "Help yourself to some. There's creamer in the fridge."

I smiled in appreciation before reaching for the pot and pouring myself a cup. Sometime in my life, I began to like the bitter taste of black coffee. Almost as if I preferred cringing when I drank it. After pouring a cup, I blew on it, watching the heat waves rise from the liquid. Then, before I could yawn or grow weary, I took a sip.

Maybe it was because Edward had made the coffee this morning, but it was some of the best I had ever had. I finished off the first cup before he could put our food on the table and poured another for myself as he set the plates down.

He had made eggs and seasoned potatoes, and I could barely wait for him to come back with a fork before I dug in. Edward chuckled as he saw me pick up a potato with my fingers from my plate to toss in my mouth. It was delicious, which didn't surprise me at all. It seemed like everything the man did was perfect.

At least, it was all perfect to me.

After setting everything down, he moved to the counter to grab a pad of paper and pen for me. I gave him another appreciative smile before picking up the pen and scrolling out a "thank you." Then, now that I was capable of communication, I wondered what I should say. Should I make a remark about last night? Or should I let him guide where we go from here? I felt like a total novice, barely knowing how romantic feelings worked.

Edward poured himself a cup of coffee before handing me a napkin and fork. When our eyes met, he casually asked, "How do you feel today?"

So, he did feel comfortable talking about last night. Thank God. With a smile that I couldn't erase if I tried, I wrote to him.

"So relaxed. How about you?"

He nodded and looked for a moment as if he had to be somewhat careful with his words. "I feel more relaxed than I've been in a long time."

There was a question that it seemed like he wanted to ask but didn't. Looking at him, it felt like he wanted to know whether or not I was all right with what happened. So, before things could become awkward between us, I wrote again.

"Thank you for last night. I needed that."

There were so many other things I wanted to write but didn't want all of my insecurities and projections to bleed onto the page. I wanted to ask him about what was next. I wanted to know whether this would negatively impact our working relationship or our friendship. I wanted to know what this was … if it was anything.

Instead, I picked up my fork and began to eat. Those questions would surely be answered in time. This was so perfect that I didn't want to put my foot in my mouth and ruin it. Whatever happened, happened. And until it did, I would learn to live in the moment.