The morning light spilled like liquid gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows, dancing across the white sheets and casting soft shadows on her bare skin. We had left the curtains open last night on purpose - the ocean was too beautiful to hide, and so was she.
She was lying there, tangled up in the linen like a secret I never wanted to share. Her back arched slightly, one leg peeking from under the covers, the sheet slipping just enough to tease. I watched her breathe for a moment - slow, deep, completely unaware of the storm she was waking in me.
I leaned in, brushing my lips over her shoulder. She stirred, smiled, and stretched like a cat, pressing her body back into mine.
"Good morning to you too," she said, voice still husky with sleep. "Couldn't wait, huh?"
I grinned. "You make it impossible. You looked too damn kissable to resist."
She rolled over, locking eyes with me. There was a sparkle in them - the kind that warned me I was in trouble. The good kind.
"I'm always kissable," she teased, pulling me closer by the waistband of my boxers. "You're just slow to act."
My mouth was on hers before the challenge even finished leaving her lips. Our kiss was unhurried, but deep - lazy like the morning but hungry like we hadn't tasted each other in weeks. She pulled my bottom lip between her teeth, then released it with a wicked smile.
"Still slow?" she whispered, eyes burning.
"Not anymore."
My hands roamed her body, reacquainting themselves with every curve, every warm, perfect inch of her. She gasped when my lips found that sensitive spot behind her ear, then moaned when my fingers slid beneath the sheet. We played like that for a while - flirtation and heat mixing like sun and salt air.
She pushed me onto my back, straddling me, hair tumbling around her shoulders like a goddess stepping out of a dream. "I want breakfast," she said, grinding her hips slowly against mine, "and I want it served in bed."
"Room service?" I asked, breath catching.
She smirked, lowering herself until her lips were grazing mine. "No. I meant you."
What followed was soft and wild, teasing and desperate, all at once. Her pace was slow, deliberate, until it wasn't. Until our bodies moved like waves-building, crashing, curling into each other again and again. Laughter slipped between kisses. Moans echoed off the glass. And when we reached the edge, it was together-tangled and breathless, smiling like the sinners we were.
We stayed like that for a long time after, limbs entwined, hearts calm, skin buzzing. She traced lazy patterns on my chest while I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered, "I could wake up like this every day."
She grinned, pressing a kiss to my jaw. "Then don't sleep anywhere else."
She was lying there, tangled up in the linen like a secret I never wanted to share. Her back arched slightly, one leg peeking from under the covers, the sheet slipping just enough to tease. I watched her breathe for a moment - slow, deep, completely unaware of the storm she was waking in me.
I leaned in, brushing my lips over her shoulder. She stirred, smiled, and stretched like a cat, pressing her body back into mine.
"Good morning to you too," she said, voice still husky with sleep. "Couldn't wait, huh?"
I grinned. "You make it impossible. You looked too damn kissable to resist."
She rolled over, locking eyes with me. There was a sparkle in them - the kind that warned me I was in trouble. The good kind.
"I'm always kissable," she teased, pulling me closer by the waistband of my boxers. "You're just slow to act."
My mouth was on hers before the challenge even finished leaving her lips. Our kiss was unhurried, but deep - lazy like the morning but hungry like we hadn't tasted each other in weeks. She pulled my bottom lip between her teeth, then released it with a wicked smile.
"Still slow?" she whispered, eyes burning.
"Not anymore."
My hands roamed her body, reacquainting themselves with every curve, every warm, perfect inch of her. She gasped when my lips found that sensitive spot behind her ear, then moaned when my fingers slid beneath the sheet. We played like that for a while - flirtation and heat mixing like sun and salt air.
She pushed me onto my back, straddling me, hair tumbling around her shoulders like a goddess stepping out of a dream. "I want breakfast," she said, grinding her hips slowly against mine, "and I want it served in bed."
"Room service?" I asked, breath catching.
She smirked, lowering herself until her lips were grazing mine. "No. I meant you."
What followed was soft and wild, teasing and desperate, all at once. Her pace was slow, deliberate, until it wasn't. Until our bodies moved like waves-building, crashing, curling into each other again and again. Laughter slipped between kisses. Moans echoed off the glass. And when we reached the edge, it was together-tangled and breathless, smiling like the sinners we were.
We stayed like that for a long time after, limbs entwined, hearts calm, skin buzzing. She traced lazy patterns on my chest while I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered, "I could wake up like this every day."
She grinned, pressing a kiss to my jaw. "Then don't sleep anywhere else."
