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She couldn't remember the last time she slept that well.

And she'd definitely never before woken up to the sound of the ocean waves.

She kept her eyes closed, in case she was still dreaming, and pushed her face more into the soft, subtly fragrant warmth at the tip of her nose, which it took her a little sleepy moment to realize was his neck, and took a deep sniff, her nose trailing up, stopping at his ear. She could never name what he smelled like, but she could smell him endlessly, every inch, every spot with its subtly different scent, one blending into another. He let out a low hum, the skin warm under her mouth when she pressed her lips to the side of his throat and went on exploring lower.

"I love it when you do it," he let out a hoarse whisper, his Adam's apple shifting as he swallowed.

"When I do what?" she asked innocently, continuing to stamp the skin with her lips, loving it, how she could get him under the spell with just this, how uncannily sensitive he was to her touch, to every single brush.

She paused for breath, pulling away and taking in the sight; tucked between the pillows, completely nude, the universe's conspiracy to drive her insane, the way he looked, all of him, every inch, like custom-made to make her lose every last bit of her mind. She couldn't pry her eyes off; the rugged, dark hair, his eyes half-lidded, those impossibly full lips parting, like in a silent plea for more, making her ache to go on and keep drawing all those sounds out of him, hums, gasps and moans, the breathless pleas and curses he'd choke out when he was close, about to come undone in her mouth, all hers; the sounds she could listen to for hours; she could probably come from just pleasuring him alone.

Well, that one thing couldn't be disputed, the chemistry between them. It still surprised her, the intensity her body reacted to him with; often when he barely even touched her, sometimes with just one look. Maybe he hacked the system, somehow; maybe he used some of those powers of his to enhance the level of pheromones or whatever it was that got her feeling like a cat in heat whenever he was near — maybe — though, actually, honestly, she didn't give a shit. If she could feel this way without substances, she didn't want it to end, ever.

"What're you thinking?" the sound of his voice brought her back.

It crossed her mind to ask him about it but she dismissed the thought. Right, like he would tell her. "I love this view," she said, her gaze drawn to the window; windows, to be precise, and even that was an understatement. The entire wall to their left was made of glass; most of it veiled by the misty, floor-length curtains, save the middle part, where the wall seemed to be missing and the white boards of the bedroom floor seamlessly led outside to a little patio, tightly surrounded by various-sized palm trees and shrubs. She wondered if there were any garden lights on this side; she remembered seeing some lamps and torches at the front and back walls of the house, but the now sun-basked patio here was completely dark last night. "Are there lights outside?"

"There could be," he said, so cryptically that she turned to look at him.

"What?" she asked with mock exasperation when she saw his mouth curl up in a smile, his hand reaching up to her face, thumb tracing up her cheek.

"I forgot how beautiful you are without all that makeup on."

"You're not too bad, yourself," she said, fighting a smile of her own, feeling silly about the fluttery rush in her stomach.

"Without my makeup on?" He gave her a playful grin, making her roll her eyes. "Have I told you I love waking up with you?" He rolled her onto her back, burying his face in her neck, kissing all around, wherever his mouth could reach.

"I don't think I woke up properly just yet…" She arched her neck, running a hand through his hair, taking a fistful of it and guiding him to where she loved his mouth most.

"Lemme help you with that…" he muttered, reaching to remove the sheet from between them.

She propped herself on her elbows, her lids half-opening, breath hitching in her throat as his mouth reached for her breast, the very sight making her swoon. "Mm," she winced when he grazed her with his teeth.

"Too hard?" He pulled away, taking a handful of the swollen flesh and giving it a gentle squeeze, then looking up at her. "They're getting more sensitive," he muttered and leaned back in, kissing and lapping softly. "That better?"

"Fuck, yes…" she almost sobbed, her eyes clamming shut; she always loved when he did that, but now with her breasts so tender, the soft swipes of his tongue sent little jolts all over her.

"I could do it for hours," he hummed against her skin. "I wonder if I could make you come like this… I think I might wanna find that out some time…"

She swallowed, gasping for breath, her eyes closing heavily as she imagined it. She was pretty damn sure he could make her come with just talking alone; but, as much as she had it on the tip of her tongue, she bit her lip. He was obnoxiously full of himself as it was.

"Someone's hungry…" He grinned when her stomach rumbled under his mouth.

"It can wait," she said breathlessly.

"You're damn right it will… 'cause I'm eating first," he said, glancing up at her before he placed a slow kiss on her inner thigh, her eyes rolling back in her head as she spread herself more for him.

They had breakfast, eventually — some time later, when the afterglow wore off and the rumbling in her stomach made her realize she hadn't eaten since the previous day's lunch — and it occurred to her — they'd never had breakfast before, together — and how strange, for it to feel as if they did it daily. How strange, for it to — for all of it, even silence, to feel so natural, like it was exactly what was meant to be happening, just right there, right then.

And, as much as she anticipated the bubble to burst, the tension to creep back in, it didn't.

If anything, it was the opposite. Later on, when they lounged in the shade cast by linen sunshades by the sunlit pool, warm ocean breeze in her face, when, with a half-full mug of long-cold coffee still in her hands, she lost herself in the postcard view in front of her — it was around that moment that it occurred to her.

That, for the first time since they arrived here, it didn't feel like the world was about to come crashing down on her head. It probably would, sooner or later. But for now, when she looked at the man beside her, the feeling just came naturally; that, if it were to happen, they would handle it together.

Strange, how good it felt to think it.

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