Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Quinn
Daylight
Taylor Swift
I blink awake slowly, sunlight warm against my face. For a second I don’t move, caught somewhere between sleep and memory until I feel him. Mikey’s hand brushes gently across my cheek, fingertips tucking a strand of hair away. The touch is so soft it almost feels like a dream.
My eyes open fully. He’s watching me. And he’s not trying to hide it. The look on his face steals my breath, it’s soft, almost reverent, like he’s seeing something fragile he doesn’t want to disturb.
“Morning,” I whisper, my voice rough with sleep.
His mouth curves. “Morning.”
The memory of last night floods in all at once; warmth, laughter, the way everything finally fell into place and I feel my cheeks heat. But there’s no awkwardness in the air. No hesitation. Just a peaceful calm.
I shift closer without thinking, tucking myself against him, and his arm tightens around me immediately.
Like it belongs there. Like this is the most natural thing in the world.
The city outside is still quiet, the light soft and golden.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t question what I’m supposed to do next. I just feel safe.
We stay like that for a long time. Half talking. Half drifting. His fingers tracing slow, absent patterns along my back while I listen to his heartbeat under my ear. Eventually my stomach betrays me with a loud growl. I groan and hide my face against his chest.
His laughter vibrates under my cheek. “Hungry?”
“Maybe.” I giggle against his skin.
“We could go grab breakfast,” his voice still sleepy. “There’s a place down the street.”
The thought makes something inside me tighten. Outside means people. Noise. Reality. I lift my head. “What if we don’t?”
He blinks. “Don’t?”
“Go out,” I shift and roll over in his arms, propping my head against his pecs. “I kind of don’t want to leave yet.” The words feel vulnerable leaving my mouth, but they’re true. I don’t want the world rushing back in. Not yet.
His expression relaxes instantly. “Okay.” He shrugs, his fingers brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, like it’s the easiest decision in the world. “We stay.” Like it’s not even a question anymore.
I smile. “Maybe we cook together instead?”
He grins. “Now that sounds like a plan.”
The kitchen is small, sun streaks spilling across the counter, the city waking up outside the windows. I crack eggs while he makes coffee, our movements awkward at first, two people figuring out how to exist together in a space that suddenly feels intimate in a whole new way.
He bumps my hip on purpose when he passes. I swat at him with the spatula. He laughs, that bright, easy laugh that always sneaks past my defenses.
“This feels weirdly domestic,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
He pauses, glancing at me. “Good weird?”
I hesitate. “Yeah,” I admit with a scrunch of my nose.
His smile is small but real. “Okay, good.”
We fall into a rhythm after that. Music low from a speaker in the corner.
Coffee brewing. The scent of butter warming in the pan.
And then he comes up behind me. No warning.
His hands settle on my hips, warm and steady, his lips feathering against my shoulder.
I freeze not because I want to pull away, but because every nerve in my body lights up.
“You’re distracting me,” I warn, not at all a complaint.
“Well, you’re distracting.” He laughs softly against my skin.
The spatula slips from my fingers as he turns me toward him, eyes searching mine like he’s asking permission without saying it out loud. I nod before I even realize I’m doing it. His kiss is slow at first. It’s soft, teasing, almost careful and then suddenly not careful at all.
The world narrows to heat and breath and the way his hands tighten like he can’t get close enough. The edge of the stove presses against my back, grounding me while everything else spins. He slides me over then lifts me up onto the counter, his body moving into the space between my legs.
I pant breathlessly against his mouth. “Breakfast-”
“Can wait,” his voice rough, as he reaches over and flips the burner off. And the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing he sees makes every rational thought disappear.
His fingers grip onto the back of my neck to tug my face to his, his lips crashing against mine a second later. My breath breaks when he presses against me, the heat of him impossible to ignore. He takes full advantage of my open mouth by sweeping his tongue inside to tangle with mine.
I scoot forward, pressing my chest more firmly into his, surprised when he takes a small step back. It fades the moment he reaches for the hem of the t-shirt I’m wearing to tug it up and over my head, my nipples peaking as soon as the air hits.
“Much better.” He growls, bending to suck one hard tip between his lips, and I nod my agreement as I arch into the warm heat of his mouth. His teeth gently bite onto the end of my nipple before he moves to my other breast, giving it the same attention as the first.
His hand cups the silk covering my center, one finger digging in deeper than the rest as it drags over my clit, my hips thrusting into his touch, a low groan tumbling from my throat.
He chuckles around my breast, the vibration only adding to the intensity of the mixture of sensations I’m experiencing.
The heat around my peak is suddenly gone, his hands going to my waist as his fingers slide my panties off me. “Let’s get these out of the way.”
I watch as the teal material floats silently to the tile, his hands making quick work of tugging his sweats down, his hard length springing free.
He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum, his eyes dangerously dark as he peers across the small space between us.
I trace my lower lip with my tongue, my hunger for him much stronger than anything my stomach was complaining about just a few minutes ago.
I slide my hands around his waist and yank him toward my center as I spread my legs wider.
“Mikey…” I pull him closer, not even trying to pretend I want anything but more.
His look turns feral as he lines his tip up to my opening before driving into me with one shove. “Is this what you want?” His voice is like gravel, his breath hot against my ear as his arms yank my entire body flush to his. Here’s that bad boy is the only thought that registers as I nod.
He moves slowly at first, watching my face like it matters more than anything else. And God, it does. Every shift, every breath, every sound, he’s right there with me. “Yes.” I mewl, my nails breaking through skin as his thrusts deepen.
“I’ll give you anything you want, Quinn.” His hips piston even harder, my orgasm starting to crest. “Anything.” And then stars burst under my eyelids as I clutch onto him, my name a roar from his lungs as his release hits a moment later.
We stay entwined in each other’s hold as our chests heave between us, neither of us letting go of the other for several long minutes. When he finally slides out of me, he quickly grabs a nearby kitchen towel and places it between my legs to catch his release.
“You okay?” His hands weaving through my hair as he places his forehead to mine.
“I’m amazing.” I lean forward and press my mouth to his. This was completely different than last night, but everything about it was absolutely and deliciously perfect.
He tugs his sweats back up over his hips and then hands me his shirt and my panties, helping me off the counter so I can put them back on.
“Ready for some breakfast?” He cocks a coy grin over at me as he moves to the stove and turns the burner back on.
Later, steam curls through the bathroom as the shower runs.
I stand outside the door for a moment, heart thumping, then push it open.
I watch as the water runs in rivulets over the muscles of his back.
He looks over his shoulder, surprise flickering into a slow, wicked grin. “See something you like?”
I nod, gnawing on the corner of my lip, my cheeks heating. “Trying to decide if I should climb in there with you.”
He turns toward me slowly, water sliding down his chest, and the look in his eyes is enough to make my stomach flip. “I think that could be the best decision you make all day.”
I step inside, smiling, and the world dissolves into laughter, warmth, and the easy intimacy that feels less like something new and more like something we’ve been building toward forever.
By afternoon, the apartment feels like its own little universe.
We’re stretched out on the couch, me tucked against him with my back to his chest, legs tangled together under a blanket.
I’m reading, well, trying to. The book is resting in my lap, it’s the same one from the other night, his arms circled loosely around me.
He doesn’t sit still. His fingers trail lightly along my arm. My hip. The edge of my thigh. I don’t think he’s trying to be distracting, except he absolutely is. I try to ignore him. I fail.
“Michael,” I grumble without looking up.
“Mmm?”
“You’re distracting me.”
“I’m just existing.”
I snort. “Your version of existing involves way too much touching.”
His laugh rumbles against my back. His fingers glide slowly over my skin again, deliberate this time. I shiver. He leans closer, voice low near my ear. “You’re welcome to read any dirty parts out loud again.”
Heat rushes through me. I turn my head enough to glare at him, but he’s grinning. “Are you daring me?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
I roll my eyes and look back at the page, but I’m smiling. And his hand never stops moving, lazy and affectionate, like he just needs the contact. It hits me then; how easy this feels. No tension. No uncertainty. Just us.
The afternoon drifts by in quiet moments. Reading. Talking. Laughing. Falling into comfortable silences where nothing needs to be said. Every time I shift, he adjusts with me, pulling me closer again like it’s instinct. Like he can’t help it. And honestly, I don’t mind at all.
By the time night falls, neither of us has mentioned leaving the apartment.
Dinner is simple. More laughter. When we finally make our way back to the bedroom, there’s no hesitation this time.
No question of where I belong. I don’t pause at the doorway.
I just slide into his bed like it’s already ours.
He watches me for a moment, something soft and certain in his expression, before climbing in beside me. His arm wraps around my waist automatically. I settle back against him, fitting perfectly.
Outside, the city glows and moves and lives its own life. But here, in this quiet room, everything feels steady. Like the beginning of something neither of us wants to end. I stare at the dark ceiling for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing behind me.
His arm tightens slightly around my waist, even in sleep, like some part of him is making sure I’m still here.
And I realize I don’t feel the urge to leave.
Not tomorrow. Not later. Not even eventually.
The thought should scare me. Instead, it settles deep in my chest, warm and quiet and dangerously right.
I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the comfort of him, into the safety of this small, perfect bubble we’ve built today.
But somewhere beneath the peace, a tiny whisper lingers.
Nothing this good ever stays untouched for long.
I press back against him anyway, choosing not to think about tomorrow.
Just this.
Just us.