Chapter 118: Lingering in Bed

Lisa's POV

I wake to warmth.

Not the heat bringer-downer of summer, nor the fake heat of too many blankets, but a perfect, no-harm-done heat brought along by Leo’s body laying against mine. We are a tangle—me with my back to his chest, his arm around my waist, our legs twined under sheets that smell like us, like last night, like home.

For a moment I hold my eyes shut, not quite prepared to exit this waking-dream state. I can feel it all too acutely—his chest pulsing in rhythm against my back, his breath warm as it kisses the warm skin on the back of my neck, the feeling of his hand over mine, sweeping possessively across my stomach, his fingers splayed as if he can’t just hold me —he needs to take me, even in sleep.

The sun has squeezed through the cracks of the curtains, flooding the room with a golden and rosy light.

It’s still early—I can tell by the quality of the light, the quiet, as if it’s tucking in, tucking us in. The world hasn’t got up, yet. It’s just the two of us, caught in this perfect moment.

Behind me, Leo stirs. His arm constricts, draws me near and I feel his lips against my shoulder-a drowsy, instinctive kiss.

“Hey,” he mumbles, his voice coarse and gritty with sleep, deeper than normal in a way that makes me shiver pleasantly.

“Hey,” I reply quietly, too scared to talk any louder and ruin the moment of silence between us.

His hand starts to move lazily, his fingers tracing paths across my stomach—circles, loops, plane curves, and other shapes that cause me to stop breathing. It's not sexual, not yet, merely a soft probing as if he needs to make sure I'm real, I am here, I am his.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks, lips still resting on my shoulder, each breath a little vibration against my skin.

"Perfectly," I honestly reply. "You?"

"Best sleep of my life." He lays another kiss on my shoulder, then my neck, slow and deliberate.

"Though I'm not sure how much of it was sleep and how much of it was just... holding you."

My heart swells. “You stayed awake?”

"Some." His hand glides up to rest just below my ribs, his thumb moving in a rhythmic motion across my skin. "Couldn't help it. You're too good looking when you sleep. I couldn't stop watching you."

I turn in his arms, needing to see his face. The motion brings us chest to chest, nose to nose, legs still tangled. His hair is so completely disheveled: spiking up in ways that should be absurd, but somehow make him look absolutely adorable. His eyes are still heavy, but there is a heat behind them that takes my breath.

He smiles back, warm, and curves his lips into one that’s both tender and hungry.

We wait like that for a long second, silently gazing at each other in the soft morning sunlight.

"You're looking," I murmur.

"Can't stop it." His thumb moves to my lower lip, and then across it slowly. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve never seen.”

"Leo..." My breathy whisper comes out stronger than I want.

He doesn't answer, but instead bends down and kisses me—gentle and unhurried and tender, flavored with sleep and warmth and Leo.

“It’s not like last night’s need and urgency,” he says, softer, slower, “it’s more tender, more languid, as if we have all the time in the world and we mean to use every second of it.”

I kiss him back, my hand sliding into his hair, my fingers curling through the soft hair. His hand on my face travels down my neck, my shoulder, my waist, drawing me impossibly closer until there’s not a speck of air left between us.

When we finally pull apart, we’re both gasping for breath.

"What time is it?" I say, though I’m not really interested.

He looks out the window, at the light. “Early. Very early.” His eyes go back to mine, dark and focused and neither one is looking away. “We don’t have to be anywhere.”

"No?" The word is almost hopeful.

"No." His hand is still exploring. “”We can just stay right here. All day if we want.”

"All day," I say again, and I like the sound of it.

The thought is exciting and wonderful.

"Mmhmm.” He turns us over so I’m on my back and he’s pressing down on me, his weight braced behind his forearms. “I wanna take my time with you Lisa. No rushing. No distractions. Just us.”

My heart is pounding now, anticipation coiling tightly in my stomach. “Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”

He bends down, capturing my lips again, this time kiss deeper, more intimate. His body shifts atop mine, that familiar pressure of him anchoring and exhilarating all at once. I can sense him in every corner, warm and firm and obvious aroused, and knowing I emotions him like this makes heat travel through me.

His lips leave mine to trace kisses along my jaw, down my neck, stopping to give special attention to that sensitive spot right under my ear that always makes me gasp. He smiles against my skin, satisfied that I’ve enjoyed his reaction and continues to explore.

“I love the noises you make,” he whispers against my collarbone. “Every little gasp, every sigh. They make me insane.”

“Leo,” I whisper, my hands travelling down his back, feeling the way his muscles tighten beneath his warm skin.

He’s not in a hurry, kissing a trail down my chest, his hands gliding across my sides, taking in each curve and dip as if he’s mapping them out. There’s the slow deliberation of all touches,

including kisser’s lips upon yours. When he reaches my stomach, he stops, gazing up at me beneath his lashes.

"Okay?" he asks softly”

“More than okay,” I hear myself say, already shaking.

He goes on investigating, hands and lips busy at the same time, finding together what makes me gasp, what makes me curve up to him, what takes my breath away. Patient and considerate of my body’s cues, it’s as if he reads my responses like he learned a language that only we speak.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, warm breath kissing my skin. “So perfect.”

I stretch out an arm for him as if I need him to come nearer. “Leo, please...”

“Please what?” As he kisses his way back up my body, he’s not in a rush. “Tell me what you need, Lisa.”

“You,” I breathe, as I pull him down for a kiss. “I want you.”

“You have me,” he promises into my mouth. “Always.”

He takes his time going in me, and we are both panting at the feel of it, the way we fit so perfectly. For a second our world stills, forehead to forehead, drinking one another’s oxygen, awash in the sacredness of this bond.

Then he starts to move, a pace that’s slow and deep and shattering. Every drive is thought-out, slow, as if he needs to memorize how I feel under him, how I react to every thrust.

“Lisa,” he says as if praying my name, his eyes connected to mine. “God, you feel incredible.”

I can’t speak, only hold him, my hands clutching his shoulders, his back, dragging him even further, closer, needing more even though I got all.

The passage of time is disguised by the morning light as we have no idea how long we've been like this together, moving in perfect harmony. kiss each other tenderly slow, fast according with needs of each other without word.

“Look at me,” he whispers as I close my eyes, dazed with feeling. "Stay with me, Lisa. I want to see you."

I force my eyes open and look into his and the depth of what lies there—love, desire, absolute devotion—nearly shatters me. “I love you,”

I breathe as the pressure tightens, winding tighter and tighter. "Leo, I love you so much."

“I love you too,” he says, his pace now unpredictable, desperate. "So much, Lisa. So darn much.”

And when I do finally break over the edge, it’s his name on my lips, and his gaze locked with mine, seeing me come undone beneath him. A moment later, he follows, As I shred into a broken sound in his throat, shaking against me.

We fall together, heart racing, bodies glistening with sweat, completely exhausted and completely satisfied. He carefully rolls us over so I'm lying on his chest, and his arms come tight around me like distance is still something he can't bear between us.

For a moment, we just don't talk. We lie there, skin on skin, listening to one another's breathing slow, feeling heartbeats ebbing back to normal. His fingers trace lazy designs on my back – up and down my spine, over my shoulders – calming and anchoring.

“We should do this every morning,” he says at last, voice lazy and content.

I chuckle quietly against his chest. “We’d never leave the bed.”

“I don’t see the problem with that.”

I lift my head to look at him. His face was calm and serene, a soft smile curling his lips. Something’s different about him like this—disarmed and at ease, not a wall left standing.

"You look happy," I say.

“I am glad I am happy.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Madly, blissfully happy. You do that to me.”

“I’m in love with you too,” I say. “I didn’t realize I could feel that way. This… complete.”

He's downright softened now, “If you can actually call that softer, yeah.” He stood me up for a slow, sweet kiss. “That’s exactly what you are to me. You complete me, Lisa.”

Tears prickle in my eyes — happy tears, over-act tears. "Don’t make me cry on our perfect morning."

“Why not? I’d kiss every tear away.” But there’s a smile on his face as he says it, at the corners of my eyes with his thumb, gently.

At last, hunger and common sense drag us from bed, but we’re in no hurry—We’re dawdling over kisses, pilfering touches as we undress, plotting how soon we can come back to this sanctuary.

Leo is wearing loose sweatpants, and I raid one of his T-shirts, it’s soft and smells like him. Hand in hand we both walk down the stairs barefooted into the kitchen to get coffee and make breakfast.

But even as they make the usual morning rounds, the closeness is palpable — the way he snuggles behind me as I get coffee, the kisses left on my temple in between duties, the two of us pulling together like magnets.

“Best morning ever,” I say as we sit down with toast and coffee, his hand immediately seeking mine across the table.

“Best everything with you,” he says, and he brings my hand to his lips.

And as I sat there in the morning light, warm from our hour together, still wrapped in that glow of love and connection, I knew that he was right.

Everything is better with him.

Everything is perfect.