Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
RICCI
Ilean against the counter, mug warm between my palms, and just watch her.
The kitchen is dim, only the soft under-cabinet lights on, casting a gentle glow across her face.
She’s in an oversized t-shirt, and the hem skimming the tops of her thighs makes her bare legs look impossibly silky and long in the low light.
Her hair is a little messy from sleep and falling over one shoulder.
I can catch the faint scent of her — warm skin, faint jasmine from her hand lotion, and something that’s just Viola.
I enjoy this.
These quiet, stolen moments in the middle of the night.
Just the two of us, no outside noise, no expectations.
The city that never sleeps is still humming far below us, but up here it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. I wish she would allow herself to fall asleep in the same bed as me.
I want to ask for it outright, but I want her to come too.
I wish I could just tell her the truth that I slept better that first night in her bed than I have in years.
No nightmares. No lying awake running through every possible threat.
Just her warmth against me, her breathing steady, and the kind of deep, dreamless rest I didn’t know I was missing.
I’ve never shared a bed with anyone before. Not for sleep. I never wondered what it would feel like. The vulnerability or the closeness. Now I know. And I want it again. Badly.
I clear my throat softly. “How was the class today?”
She looks up, green eyes bright even in the low light, and a small smile curves her lips. “It was good. Every time I go, I love it more,” she admits huskily.
I nod, letting the silence stretch for a second, savoring the way she’s opening up without me having to pull it out of her. “Do you want a studio? In here. We could make one. Whatever you need.”
She hesitates, fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “Not yet,” she says quietly. “Being around other people who love art is good, and I like background noise. It helps me think and grounds me.”
I laugh under my breath. “People and noise help you think?”
She tilts her head, studying me with that quiet intensity that always undoes me a little. “Yes. Do you prefer solitude?”
I think about it for a moment. “For the most part, yes, but I do like being with you.”
The words slip out simple and honest, and I watch the blush rise on her cheeks, gentle pink spreading across her skin. She looks down into her tea, but I catch the way her lips press together like she’s trying not to show me how pleased she is. It does something dangerous to my chest.
We drink our tea in comfortable silence after that. When our mugs are empty, we head back upstairs together. At her bedroom door she stops, turning to face me.
“Thank you for keeping me company,” she says, voice soft. “Goodnight.”
I nod, throat tight. “Okay.” I lean in and kiss her on the cheek, lingering just a second longer than I should, breathing her in.
I want to ask her. Right now. I want to say come sleep with me or stay in my bed tonight, or I sleep better when you’re next to me.
But the words stick in my throat. I get nervous in a way I haven’t since I was a kid, and I’m so shocked by how much I want it that I just… stand there.
She stares at me.
I stare back.
For a long second, neither of us speaks.
The air between us feels thick, charged, like the whole penthouse is holding its breath.
I compose myself quickly, straightening up, but I can feel the heat crawling up my neck.
She doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me with those green eyes, waiting, like she knows there’s something I want to ask but can’t quite get the words out.
I swallow hard.
I only know one thing. I don’t want to walk away. Not tonight.