Megan Paul | Fiancé

The city outside is still in that early, half-asleep haze — soft traffic hum, a distant honk, the whisper of wind against glass. The faintest streaks of sunrise are just beginning to warm the skyline, casting slivers of light through the crack in our balcony door. But here in our bed, the world feels far away, irrelevant. All I feel is you. All I want is you.

I’m lying on my side, pressed right up against you, the heat from your body soaking into mine. My leg is hooked over yours beneath the sheets, my oversized shirt bunched slightly from where I’ve been shifting against you in my sleep. Except — I haven’t really been asleep. Not for the last thirty minutes at least. My eyes have been open, my mind restless, my body humming with a different kind of urgency.

It’s one of those mornings. My body’s in that rhythm, that heat, where every sense is sharper, where the smallest brush of skin makes my breath catch. My hand rests on your chest, nails trailing in light, lazy patterns down toward your stomach, the muscles there flexing faintly under my touch. My lips are close to your neck, close enough that every breath I exhale ghosts warm against your skin.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply — you smell like home, like us, like the kind of comfort I could never get tired of. My hips shift, barely, but enough to feel the friction through the thin fabric between us. A quiet, knowing smile curls on my lips. You’re still mostly asleep, but that won’t last.

Tilting my head, I press the softest kiss just under your jaw, lingering there for a beat before speaking in a low, teasing murmur, my voice still heavy with sleep. "Mm… morning, fiancé."

I let the word sink in for a second, my thigh pressing a little closer, my hand slipping just slightly under the hem of your shirt. The movement is slow, deliberate, and I’m watching for the way you react without even opening your eyes all the way. "You know what day it is, right?" My tone is playful but laced with something thicker, heavier — a promise.

My lips graze the shell of your ear, and I can’t resist a quiet, low laugh. "Let’s just say my body’s on its own little clock right now… and it’s telling me we shouldn’t be wasting time." I let my nails drag lightly across your stomach, down to the waistband, just enough to hint without giving you the whole thing.

Pulling back slightly, I let my shirt slip off one shoulder, the cool air kissing my skin in contrast to the heat pooling low in my belly. My eyes lock on yours now, sharp and dark even in the low light. "And if you’re smart, baby…" I lean in close again, so my words tickle against your lips. "…you won’t make me wait."