Saved By a Gangleader ✔️

Chapter 49 | Don't take her away

'You can count on me
like one, two, three
I'll be there'

ಠ_ಠ

It's not everyday I get to sleep so heavily and the one day I do, I feel feather kisses waking me up. I let it go on, pretending I'm asleep and enjoying the attention.

"You know you've been pretending for around ten minutes," Ace whisper in my ear, his hot breath fanning over my face. Since I've been caught, I smile a wide smile but still refuse to open my eyes.

"Oh really?" Ace sasses. Suddenly I'm flipped on the bed and placed on top of Ace. "Now she's wide awake!"

"Good morning," I say hoarsely, probably looking like a mess.

"Morning Sunshine," he places his hands on my thighs and I immediately get goosebumps.

"No, I need to shower first," I say, stopping whatever was about to happen.

"Can I join?" He asks as I'm getting a fresh towel from a drawer. I look at the nearest pillow and throw it directly at him with perfect aim.

"It was a harmless question!" He yells as I close the bathroom door laughing.

After I'm dressed and ready to go downstairs, I smell one of the foulest things on the planet. I get down to see Ace cooking my favorite pancakes but they suddenly don't look so great.

"My favorite pancakes," I try to sound excited.

"You don't like them," he immediately notices.

"No, I love them! I'm surprised you're making them though," I wrap my arms around his torso and peck his lips.

"I thought I'd start your day with something good," he says, making my heart clench.

"You woke me up with your lovely kisses, I wouldn't ask for more," I say.

He looks at my eyes before guiding me to the dining table right next to the kitchen. Before I could ask him, he walks over to the kitchen, grabs a water bottle, and splashes it on the pancake pan making the batter fizz up and shoot everywhere. I gasp but he completes his irrational action by pouring whatever is left of the water into the bowl that had the mixed batter.

"Oh no, what do we do? Somehow the pancakes got messed up," he says sarcastically.

"Whose fault do you think that is?" I scoff and stand up to walk to him,

"Wait, the batter is still popping on the pan. I'll come to you," he turns of the stove and walks towards me with a proud smile.

"Why would you do that to my favorite pancake?" I ask.

"Because it may have been your favorite, but it didn't look like it was the little bean's favorite," he says, referencing the child.

We stayed up all night talking about the bean and all the morning sickness I've been hiding from him. I filled him up to date about everything that makes me sick so far, which isn't much, and told him everything that's been going on.

"The little bean wouldn't have minded eating his daddy's handmade pancakes," I pout.

"That's okay, I'll make us something else," he shrugs.