Chapter 36 - Saturday Interrupted

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It must be mid-morning. I've been awake for a while, but too comfortable to move away from the safe cocoon of his warm body and a soft blanket. His arms are like steel bands around me, his legs are thrown carelessly but possessively over mine, and his warm breath is fanning the side of my head.

I can feel the moment he wakes up - his breathing changes and his body stiffening. I tighten my arms around him when I feel him shift.

"You're awake," he murmurs before pressing a kiss on my temple. His voice is husky from sleep. "Good morning, sweetheart."

I let my hands slide off his body when he reaches over me to pick up his phone on the bedside table. Then he lets his head fall back down on the same pillow where my head is resting on. He swipes his thumb over the screen and I steal a glance. It's after ten in the morning.

He goes through his messages very quickly, probably checking for anything urgent or important. It's Saturday and he told me last night, and again at dawn this morning that he usually goes to the office until noon on Saturdays.

He sighs and tosses the phone onto the other side of the bed before his warm powerful arm circles my waist and playfully tugs me in even closer. A giggle escapes my mouth but it dies down when his heavy-lidded gaze locked on my lips before moving up to my eyes.

He's so beautiful, it hurts. Every time I set my eyes on him, it struck me. It hits me right in my chest. Even now, just waking up - hair tousled, thickly lashed eyelids heavy from sleep, and the lower half of his face covered by a layer of stubble, he's easily the sexiest man I've ever seen.

I take in the sharp jawline, the high cheekbones, the strong aristocratic nose, and the light green color of his eyes with the golden burst in the center. I don't know how long we lie there, staring at each other.

He brings his hand up to cup the side of my face. His thumb brushes my lower lip. "You are beautiful," he murmurs. "Have you any idea how beautiful you are?"

I smile lazily and his lips quirk up as though he just remembered who he's talking to. Yes, I do know. False modesty is never my thing.

He chuckles and moves his hand away.

"Stay," I whisper, sliding my fingers along his muscled arm, tracing his tattoo there before moving my hand over the broad shoulder, marveling at the power of his muscles, rippling beneath my palm. I'm not ready to let him leave for work yet.

It's been a few days since I went and brought lunch to his office. I didn't get the chance to look around in his office for the Grimoire or anything that I could bring back to Astaroth.

But I wasn't even sorry that I didn't. I wasn't thinking of Astaroth. I was thinking only of him. We spend every evening, talking and every night in bed together. We can't get enough of each other. The more I spend time with him, the more addicted I am to him.

He makes me feel cherished and protected. Mattered. Belonged. I feel connected to him. He makes me happy. And when he's not around, it's almost like physical pain. I crave him.

I know sooner or later, this will end and I'm going to have to face reality. I'll be alone again. But until then, we're living in this happy bubble where there's only he and I exist. He's not a Nephilim royalty and I'm not Astaroth's little soldier, a half-demon bastard.

"It's Saturday, you don't have to go to work," I tell him, bringing my hand up to play with a few locks of his hair that curl around the nape of his neck. It feels silky between my fingers. "You work too hard," I continue. "Do you make your employees work on Saturdays too?"

"No, not normally," he replies. "But once in a while, only when they have a project that needs to be completed on time. They get paid overtime for that."

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