Chapter 144: Morning in gold
Warmth was the first thing that I felt.
Not the kind from the sun through windows or the spill of silk sheets—but the kind that comes from another body pressed close, anchoring yours. Caspian’s arm was draped around my waist, his chest to my back, legs tangled with mine like we’d somehow tried to fold ourselves into each other during the night. His breath moved in slow, steady waves against my neck.
The air smelled of sleep and him—cedar, spice, and something warm under it, like rain that smells like lemon. The smell enveloped me, and I did nothing. I did not move right away.
I let myself stay there instead and immerse myself in the silence. The kind of silence that didn't sound empty. It sounded earned.
Sunlight spilled in lazy streaks across the hardwood floor, gilding the edges of the sheets. Our wine glasses from last night still sat on the table in the corner, empty but unapologetically present, like proof of something sacred we’d shared hours before.
I didn’t remember falling asleep—I just remembered the feeling that wrapped around me after he kissed me. Not desire, not possession.
Security. Peace.
A creepy, unbroken kind of quiet that only ever existed behind truth.
I shifted a little bit, quietly so as not to disturb him. Caspian was sleeping, his hand thrown loosely over my belly, his face inches away from mine. There was something in him lying there like this—un-guarded, his jaw loose in sleep and hair slightly mussed—that made my heart hurt in the best possible way.
He looked younger. Lighter. As if the night before had stripped him of the burden he carried and left something almost boy like in its stead.
I stroked my fingers through his hair, slow and feathery.
He shifted.
"Staring at me sleeping?" he asked, voice like gravel coated in cream.
"Maybe."
"Should I worry or should I be pleased?"
I smiled, rolling onto my side to lean toward him. "Pleased. You appear." I hesitated. "Human. Exhaustible."
He opened one eye, then the other, and the same sleepy smile pulled at his mouth. "I've always been touchable," he told me. "You're just the only one who gets to do anything about it."
I laughed low, burying my face into him. "You're shameless."
"I'm in bed with the woman I love," he growled, still rough-voiced, morning-gravelly. "I'm allowed to be a little smug."
I blinked. But however many times he repeated the words—the woman I love—it still hit like a shock against my skin. No guard. No warning. Just truth.
Caspian Grey didn't deal in empty words. When he told me he loved me, I knew it was true.
He swept a hair from my cheek, fingers tracing my temple. "What are you thinking?"
"If we don't leave shortly, I'll never escape from this bed."
"Good." He leaned forward and kissed me, slow and tender. "That was the idea."
The kiss deepened a bit—not hungry, not desperate, just done. Like we had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine.
"Do nothing today," he whispered. "No meetings. No news. Just us."
"My employees will think you've unfairly prejudiced me."
He snorted. "They already do."
I laughed and climbed over him, straddled his hips with my hands on his. He looked up at me like I was the only thing he could see. And right then, I was.
"I'm serious," he said. "No phones. No alarms. Just you in my arms, all damn day."
His voice deepened, rich and thick with feeling that simmered hot just beneath the surface.
"And what do you think you are going to do with me, Mr. Grey?" I inquired, arching an eyebrow.
He grinned sloppily. "First? Coffee. Second? More of that." His fingers crawled up my hips. "Then perhaps breakfast in bed. Then you tell me every single thing you've ever desired and I take it as my duty to locate it for you.".
I leaned forward and kissed him again, harder this time. My fists were clenched in his hair, and he gave a guttural noise deep in the back of his throat, his arms wrapped around me as if he never planned on letting me go.
We broke apart, both of us panting for air, smiling into the silence.
"I'm going to go brew the coffee," he said at last. "Stay where you are. Don't move."
I stood there and saw him roll out of bed, loose and easy, the sweatpants' elastic waistband sagging over his hips. His skin was golden in sunlight as he moved across the room. I could have written sonnets about his back alone.
He disappeared down below, and I slept in my bed as instructed, burrowing into the scent of him on the bed, the dense softness of tranquility holding me down like a blanket. I let myself think for a moment that this was normal now. That these might be our lives—our lives with golden peaceful mornings and languid kisses.
He returned with two mugs, steam curling between us in wisps, and a plate of toast which I was sure he hadn't made himself.
"Toast?" I teased. "You're treating me."
"Don't get used to it," he said, setting down the tray. "Unless you're considering marrying me. Then I can be persuaded to bestow breakfast rights."
I glared.
He wasn't joking. His expression didn't change. He simply nodded and set my mug in front of me, sitting beside me and sipping his coffee as if he'd just laid a live grenade in front of me.
"Caspian…"
He looked at me, all smooth curves and unreadable eyes, but I could feel the strain behind them. He was holding out, not for an answer, but for me to return to where he'd already arrived.
"I didn't mean now," he growled. "I just meant… I've thought about it. A lot."
I gazed at him, coffee splintered on my fingers.
Is that okay?" he went on, vulnerability edging into his voice.
I set my mug aside and straddled his lap in silence, cupping his face in both my hands. "It's more than okay."
His breath whooshed out in a trembly sigh, almost sounding like relief.
"I don't need the ring or the timing," I breathed. "Just the knowing. And I know."
We kissed once more—slow, deep, earthed. The kind of kiss you only give when there is nothing to prove, no threat hovering in the wings. Only love. Unwavering and whole.
When we broke, I leaned my forehead against his.
"What if the peace doesn't last?" I breathed.
He gazed at me, not into me. "Then we hold on. Both of us."
And I believed him.
In a world that had asked too much of the two of us, where humans loved with strings attached and ran when things broke, Caspian stayed. Even in the silence. Especially then.
I peeked over my shoulder and pulled the blankets up over the two of us, coffee forgotten, toast uneaten. I burrowed into his chest, and his arms wrapped around me without hesitation.
We lay out like that for hours, the day slowly and gently unfolding before us.
And I let myself believe in forever, for the first time in some time.
Not because it was promised.
But because it was possible.
With him.
With us.