Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Just wait until the ending. ‘Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho.’”
“You’re such a dork,” Adrian said fondly, turning to press a kiss to my neck that sent heat shooting down my spine.
“Your dork,” I replied without thinking.
Adrian went very still against me. “Are you?”
The question hung in the air between us, loaded with meaning. I could deflect, make a joke, pretend I hadn’t just claimed him in the most casual way possible. But looking down at him—hair mussed from the pillows, eyes soft with something that looked deceptively like affection—I found I didn’t want to take it back.
“If you want me to be,” I said quietly.
Instead of answering with words, Adrian shifted until he was straddling my lap, his hands cupping my face as he kissed me slow and deep. He tasted like red wine and possibility, and when he pulled back to rest his forehead against mine, we were both breathing hard.
“I want you to be,” he whispered.
The rest of the movie played forgotten in the background as we kissed on my couch, hands roaming over familiar territory that somehow felt new in this context. This wasn’t desperate fucking driven by lust and alcohol. This was softer. More tender. Like we had all the time in the world.
Like we were marking the beginning of forever, instead of counting down to the end of temporary.
When we finally made it to the bedroom, Adrian was wearing my old Sullivan Hardware hoodie and nothing else, and I was pretty sure I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
I woke up before dawn to the sound of snow hitting the windows and the warm weight of Adrian’s body against mine. His hair stuck up on one side, and there was a small purple hickey under his ear, but he looked perfect. Peaceful in a way I’d never seen him when he was awake and performing for the world.
I slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him, and padded to the kitchen to start the coffee. The apartment was quiet and warm, fairy lights still twinkling in the windows, the lingering scent of garlic and herbs mixing with the smell of snow and contentment.
As the coffee brewed, I found myself thinking about the evening before. The way Adrian’s face had lit up when he’d seen the dinner I’d prepared. The soft sound he’d made when he’d tasted my mother’s lasagna. The casual intimacy of watching a movie together with his head on my shoulder like we’d been doing it for years.
I poured coffee into two mugs—making sure his had just the right amount of oat creamer in it—and carried them back to the bedroom. Adrian was starting to stir, making soft sleepy sounds that made my chest tight with affection.
“Morning,” I murmured, setting his coffee on the nightstand and leaning down to brush a light kiss across his temple.
He made a pleased humming sound, eyes still closed. “Coffee?”
“Of course.”
“You’re perfect,” he mumbled, finally opening those blue eyes to blink at me sleepily. “What time is it?”
“Early. I need to open the store, but you should sleep in.”
“Mm. Don’t wanna. I’ll come with you.”
The casual way he said it—like accompanying me to work was the most natural thing in the world—made something flutter in my chest. “You don’t have to.”
“Want to,” he insisted, sitting up and reaching for his coffee. “Besides, someone needs to make sure you’re not being too grumpy to the customers.”
An hour later, I was beginning to think bringing Adrian to the hardware store had been a mistake. Not because he was causing problems, but because watching him interact with my world was doing dangerous things to my heart.
He’d come downstairs wearing another one of my old Sullivan Hardware hoodies—a gray one with the faded logo that I’d had since high school—and carrying his coffee in the hardware store mug like he belonged there. His hair was still sleep-mussed despite his attempts to tame it, and he had the relaxed, satisfied look of a man who’d been thoroughly loved the night before.
Bonnie had greeted him warmly, and the two had immediately gotten into a long conversation about the Christmas window display while I sorted stock… albeit a little more distractedly than usual.
“Morning, Bonnie! Morning, Maddox!” Mrs. Hoffman called as she bustled in, shaking snow from her coat. She stopped short when she saw Adrian behind the counter, organizing receipts with the focused attention he usually reserved for creating content.
“Morning, Mrs. Hoffman,” I replied. “What can we help you with today?”
But she was staring at Adrian, taking in the hoodie and the mug and the casual way he was moving around the space behind the register. A knowing smile spread across her face.
“Well, well,” she murmured. “Isn’t this domestic?”
Adrian looked up from the receipts, cheeks flushing slightly. “Morning, Mrs. Hoffman. How are you?”