POV: Elena
The sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, warm and golden against my skin. I shifted slowly, blinking against the light, feeling the soft brush of sheets over bare skin—and an arm wrapped securely around my waist.
My breath caught.
Everything from last night came rushing back.
The kisses.
The touches.
The way he'd looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
I turned my head just a little, careful not to wake him.
Zayden.
His face was relaxed in sleep, the harsh lines of his usual expression softened into something so… breathtakingly human. Vulnerable. I reached out, letting my fingers lightly trace the curve of his jaw.
I shouldn't have felt this safe. Not after everything. But wrapped in his arms, I did.
As if sensing my gaze, his eyes slowly opened—dark and sleepy.
"Morning," I whispered, voice still husky.
He blinked, then offered a half-smile. "Morning, baby girl."
Heat bloomed in my cheeks. "You—you remember that?"
"I remember everything," he murmured, pulling me closer. "Every sound you made. Every time you said my name like it was a secret. Every time you looked at me like I was yours."
I buried my face in his chest, groaning. "Zayden…"
He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through me. "What? Regretting last night?"
I looked up at him. "Never. Not for a second."
That smile—that rare, unguarded smile—spread across his lips, and then he kissed my forehead so softly I could've melted right there.
"You hungry?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "I make a mean omelet."
I blinked. "Zayden Rhodes cooks?"
"Only for the girl who stole my sanity."
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POV: Zayden
Watching her sit on the kitchen counter in my shirt, swinging her legs and humming as I cooked—I couldn't believe how fast she was becoming part of my world.
Scratch that.
She was my world now.
She giggled when I nearly dropped the pan. "So much for your 'mean omelet,' CEO."
I grabbed a grape from the bowl and popped it into her mouth to shut her up. "Eat. Or I'll carry you back to bed and you won't leave all day."
She blushed but didn't argue. Not really.
After breakfast, we curled back up on the sofa—her tucked into my side, my arm wrapped around her like I was afraid she'd disappear.
"You're different with me," she said suddenly.
I looked down at her. "Different how?"
"You're... softer. Not cold or guarded like you are with everyone else at work."
I didn't respond right away. Instead, I touched the bandage she'd placed on my hand days ago. Still there. Still colorful. Still hers.
"That's because," I said quietly, "you see me. The real me."
Her lips parted, her eyes glimmering with something deep.
"And I'll never let anything hurt you, Elena," I added, voice fierce. "Not people. Not pressure. Not even yourself."
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POV: Elena
I leaned forward, kissed him slowly—because there were no words to match what I was feeling.
No drama. No confusion.
Just us.
For now, that was everything.
And I was falling.
Fast.
Hard.
For the man who kissed like fire and held me like I was made of glass.
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