Southern Heart by Madison, Natasha (best fiction novels .txt) 📕

tasted her lips on mine. It was a slip that will never happen again. It can’t happen.

Her hands on me as she bathed me made my cock so hard, I was petrified she would see it. Instead, I kept my T-shirt over it in a ball. Listening to her talk about what she wanted in the future and knowing that it was nothing that I could give her. I have nothing to offer her.

I get up slowly as I make my way to the bathroom. The stinging is a bit less today, but it pulls nonetheless. I walk into the kitchen and see that it’s just after five in the morning. I see her bedroom door open, and everything inside me tells me not to go there. But before I can think, my feet are walking there, and I see her lying in the middle of the bed. The soft light is on her as she sleeps in a fetal position. Slowly, I close the door, not to wake her, and walk back into the kitchen to start coffee.

Putting my hands down on the counter, I look around her house. Something that I didn’t have time to do before. Everything is clean and put in place, the white countertops shine. Two brass lanterns hang from the ceiling that is over the island. She has a small plant sitting on the window ledge that looks out to the backyard, just like her grandmother. A picture of her and her grandmother also on the ledge. I pick it up and hold it in my hand, looking at the smile on Chelsea’s face. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I place it back right where I took it from and walk over to the fridge, seeing two color drawings stuck on there.

Grabbing the milk out of the fridge, I walk over to the coffee machine and pour some in. Putting it back into the fridge, I hear soft footsteps. "Hey," she says, wrapping the robe around herself and looking at me with one eye open. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I say, looking at her bare legs now, the robe no longer than the shorts she’s wearing underneath it. "I didn’t mean to wake you." I grab the coffee in my handm ignoring the little shakes. "Go back to bed. I’ll be fine."

"Are you hungry?" She ignores what I just said, walking into the kitchen now. "I can make some eggs. All you ate yesterday was broth." She walks over to the fridge, and I see that her face still has sleep on it. “You can have some solids today.”

"Chelsea." I call her name, and she looks over at me. "Go back to bed."

"Do you know," she says, grabbing a pack of bacon out of the fridge, "that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”

I put my head back and groan. "Do you ever listen?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "At times." She chuckles. "I’m just going to put the bacon in the oven, and then I’m going to have a coffee."

"Whatever I say, you aren’t going to listen to me?" I ask her, but I know the answer. It’s clear as day she is her own woman, and she does what she wants when she wants it.

"I listen sometimes," she says, starting her own coffee, and I chuckle as I walk to the island and pull out one of the wooden stools.

"Do you have a routine?" I ask her, and she looks over at me.

"Everyone does,” she counters as she pours some cream into her coffee. "Even you."

"What’s your routine?" I ask her.

"Well, when I get up early before the sun comes up, I make myself a coffee and then go sit on the back steps." She looks toward the back door. "It’s pretty amazing to see the sky go from dark to a soft gray, then slowly to a soft purple. Then hitting the trees, making it a light green, right before it turns the whole sky yellow."

"You see the beauty in everything," I say before I can take it back.

"I’m going to grab my coffee and sit outside," she tells me, "and I’m going to do this before you say something that pisses me off." She turns, and I watch her walk out the back door. The robe sways side to side as she walks.

"Fuck," I hiss out, walking over to the door and walking outside. The damp, cold air hits me right away. She doesn’t turn her head back to look at me, and it hurts just a touch.

I slowly bend to sit next to her and wince when I finally get to sitting. I don’t say anything to her as we sit side by side. I look up at the sky, and I see the darkness slowly turn colors. It’s exactly how she said it looked. "You were right," I say, lifting the cup of coffee to my lips. "It really is beautiful." She looks over at me, and my head turns to look at her even though I tell myself not to. The soft blue of her eyes hits me in the stomach as if she just punched me. The breeze blows her hair ever so gently. "It’s not the only thing that is beautiful," I tell her and just watch how her mouth opens just a touch. We are lost at this moment, and I feel the pull to her stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

"Mayson," she says my name so softly, our faces are moving toward each other. I can taste her lips on mine. When the snap of branches fills the quiet air, my head flies around toward where the noise was coming from. My eyes move around the backyard, and my training kicks in.

The dense trees all the way in the back of the yard make it hard to see anyone there. I stop for a moment and then hear it again. "Get inside," I tell her, my voice tight. "Get