Chapter 4: Adorable
1301 Words
CHAPTER 4: Adorable
Lara stirred beneath the sheets, her head pounding lightly with the familiar throb of a hangover. A soft groan escaped her lips as she blinked against the morning light streaming through the curtains. Her mouth felt dry, her brain foggy—but not enough to ignore the fact that she was not alone in bed.
She slowly turned her head and stilled when she saw Reagan lying beside her, fast asleep.
Her breath caught.
Her cheek was resting on his arm, her body curled against his chest like they belonged there. His other arm was draped protectively around her waist, his chest slowly rising and falling.
He looked peaceful.
Her heart gave a slow, heavy thud.
Memories from last night came flooding back—her drunken rambling, the jealousy, the crying, the kiss. God, she said a lot of things. Heat crept up her cheeks as she winced at the memory of it all. But despite the embarrassment, she didn’t regret any of it. Not really.
Not when she woke up like this, wrapped in his warmth, with his scent grounding her like a familiar lullaby.
He was still the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. Up close like this, in the quiet hush of morning, he looked softer somehow. Less like the intimidating man she met before, and more like the man who once told her he would wait forever if that’s what she needed.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she studied him quietly. His jaw was dusted with faint stubble, lips slightly parted, dark lashes resting against his cheeks. His hair was a little tousled, and the morning light filtered in just enough to highlight the sharp planes of his face.
God. How can someone look so breathtaking first thing in the morning?
She lifted a hand, careful not to wake him, and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. Her fingers trailed down, featherlight, over the arch of his thick brows, tracing the shape of his nose, down to the outline of his lips.
But just as the tip of her finger was about to touch them, a warm hand caught hers.
Lara froze.
Reagan’s eyes fluttered open, green, sharp, and still a little hazy from sleep. The intensity of his gaze made her breath hitch.
His voice came out low and raspy, edged with amusement. “Caught you.”
Lara blinked, mortified. “You’re awake?”
Reagan’s lips curved into a lazy smirk, his fingers still gently curled around hers. “I was trying to sleep. But someone was getting a little handsy with my face.”
“I wasn’t—!” she started defensively, then gave up with a soft groan. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“Little?” he echoed, shifting onto his side so he was fully facing her. His hand remained in hers. “You were about to map out my entire face like it was an art project.”
She rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming. “I was just admiring you. That’s not a crime.”
His low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Hmm. So you admire people in their sleep now? That’s new.”
“You make it sound creepy,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes.
“It is a little creepy,” he teased, voice low and playful. “Cute. But still creepy.”
She scoffed and shoved his chest lightly with her free hand. “I hate you.”
He caught that hand too, grinning as he brought it up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“No, you don’t.”
God. How could he be this effortlessly charming when he hadn’t even been awake for five minutes?
Lara groaned and rolled onto her back, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh. I said so many embarrassing things last night, didn’t I?”
Reagan propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with amusement dancing in his eyes. “You mean the part where you called me an asshole? Or the part where you claimed me like a drunk little gremlin screaming ‘you’re mine!’ in the hallway?”
“I did not sound like a gremlin,” she muttered through her fingers.
“You kinda did.”
“Reagan,” she groaned, dragging the pillow over her face. “Please stop talking.”
He chuckled and gently pried the pillow away, grinning down at her. “For the record, I didn’t mind it.”
Her eyes met his, uncertain. “You didn’t?”
“I liked hearing it. Even if you were drunk out of your mind.” His voice softened. “You missed me. You wanted me close. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t mean something.”
Her chest tightened, a soft warmth spreading through her.
“I still want you close,” she whispered.
Reagan’s expression shifted, something deeper and intense flickered behind his eyes.
They lay there like that for a few moments, just looking at each other.
Then slowly, Reagan leaned in. His head dipping toward hers, the world narrowing until she could see nothing but the green of his eyes, the soft curve of his mouth, the heat of his skin brushing against hers.
She couldn’t breathe. Her heart tripped over itself.
But just as his lips hovered inches from hers, reality struck her like a slap.
Wait.
Oh no.
Her eyes widened and she immediately pulled back, slapping a hand over her mouth.
“Wait!” she blurted, scrambling away from him.
Reagan blinked. “What—?”
“I haven’t brushed my teeth!”
He froze for a split second before breaking into a wide, amused grin. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” she said, mortified, keeping her hands firmly over her mouth. “I’ve got morning breath and I drank last night. I probably reek of alcohol. You cannot kiss me like this.”
His grin widened as he chuckled. “I don’t mind.”
She let out a groan. “Well, I do!”
Reagan let out another soft laugh and reached for her waist, pulling her gently back into his arms. “You’re seriously adorable, you know that?”
“I know I am,” she muttered, cheeks flaming. “But we still can’t. I need to brush my teeth first.”
She tried to wriggle free, but his arms stayed locked around her, holding her firmly in place.
“Reagan,” she warned, breathless. “I mean it. We really can’t.”
He looked at her with a mischievous smile and leaned forward—not to kiss her lips, but to place a soft, lingering kiss on the tip of her nose.
“We can’t?” he echoed, voice low and soft, almost teasing.
Lara’s heart did a full somersault. Her breath hitched again, and her face flushed so hard it felt like she might combust.
“We can’t,” she insisted weakly, her resolve hanging by a thread. Every cell in her body screamed for her to stay in his arms. To lean in. To give in.
But somehow—by some miracle—she found the strength to cupped his cheek and gently push him away. “Not right now.”
Before he could say a word, she scrambled out of bed like her life depended on it, her bare feet hitting the cool floor as she darted to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.
From inside, she could hear Reagan’s deep, amused chuckle echoing through the room.
Lara braced herself against the sink, staring at her reflection with burning cheeks and a racing heart.
God. What was she going to do with that man?
- Writer
