Abigail
Rays of sunlight filtered through the large windows of the yacht's master cabin, painting everything in soft golds and warm oranges, making it look like I was stuck in a WesAnderson movie.
Except, of course, I didn't feel melancholic. More like I was floating on a cloud of euphoria.
Jesus holy Christ, what in the intensity happened last night?
The boat was still moving smoothly across the sea, gently rocking as the engines hummed under us. I woke up first, nestled against Finnegan's warm, solid body.
His arm was wrapped possessively around my waist, holding me close and tightly against him even in sleep.
So fucking adorable. I smiled up at his peaceful sleeping face, then tried to slide out of bed carefully. Turns out he had a sensory trigger because the moment I moved, his arm tightened around me like a steel band.
A low, sleepy grumble vibrated from his chest.
I smiled softly and turned my head, pressing a tender kiss to the hard muscle of his bicep.
