Someone is watching me. I turn, my hand blindly reaches out for the firm arms that rocked me all night to seek protection. But I come up empty except for the soft surface I am resting on. My eyelids flutter open, I look down at my wandering hand, I am on my bed. I yawn, a tiny smile flits to my lips when my gaze lands on my watcher. Paul.

My fingers weave into his beard, I tug on it and his face contorts playfully. I exhale, my heart rams into my chest and I wheeze. A smile takes over his face, I give his arm a small squeeze and he winks. I missed this. I missed him. I missed us. No more fights. He pecks my lips, I bring his head down to repay the gesture on his forehead and lose myself at the sight of his earsplitting grin.

"Good morning," my eyebrows crease, "is it morning yet?" I ask in a voice thick with sleep. Casting one look around my room, I squint, the light pouring from the ceiling makes it hard to tell the hour of the day.

His left hand rests on my stomach with his right elbow propped on the pillow. Another yawn escapes my lips, he bops my nose and shakes his head in response to my question. I nod, a feeling of dread settles in the pit of my belly at the thought of telling him about my flight which is this morning, I purse my lips. We agreed on being open about everything, even the most irrelevant things.

After our argument and the long discussion that followed, I spent the minutes tucked in his arms, ear pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat until lethargy took over me. He must have carried me into the room, I can be such a baby but I am his baby; his big baby. Looking at him with a lazy smile, the butterflies in my stomach flutter when lines appear at the corners of his eyes as his lips pull into a grin. I love this big head.

Paul said a lot to me last night, almost too much. His calm tone and reassuring smiles didn't make it less painful to hear the talk but the bottom line is: I must be kinder with my words when upset. I trail a finger on his lower lip, lift myself to bite on the succulent flesh. I never meant to hurt him, I will never hurt him deliberately but he is right, I jump into conclusions too quickly and say a lot of cruel things out of anger.

"What will you do with the prize money?" I understand now what he meant the day we first talked about the show. He doesn't need the money, he can go years without working and still have enough to spend, unlike me.

Sparing him a glance, I pout and prop my chin on his chest, eager to hear his answer. He has a bit of fame now, more Instagram followers, most of which came after the show, the mini controversy and questions surrounding the need for the organisers to announce another winner. I purse my lips and raise my brows when he remains mute.

I never mean to stalk him but I always find myself on his page, lurking at the comment section of those pictures of us he uploaded. The comments are hilarious, I might have acquired a few haters who hide under the label of makeup artistes and dermatologists that give careless remarks about my skin and make up. Too bad for them, I have the man they so badly want and he is madly in love with me, a man who forgets he has the Instagram app as soon as he makes a post.

The man who named a meal after me and treats me right. I tug on his nipple and jut my lower lip when he pouts. They can keep talking all the shit they want about me, my skin is smoother than most of their careers.

Paul's head lowers to claim my lips, my arms go around his neck and I moan as his hand closes over my breast. I deepen the kiss which soon turns frenzy and gasp when he pinches my nipple. He takes that chance to thrust his tongue into my mouth, I climb on top of him and pull his lip between my teeth. He palms my buttocks, kneading the soft flesh, I whimper as I grind on him, eliciting rounds of sinful moans from him.

Placing my hands on each side of his head, I rotate my pelvis on his groin area and his hands relocate to my waist to keep me still.

I whisper, "You have not answered me." He shrugs, I plaster a fake frown. "You are not my boyfriend again," I smack his chest and he lets out a small laugh, "I don't like you."

"You wish," he replies, "you are stuck with me." I giggle, his words warm me over more than I think possible. His brows furrow, a corner of his lips twitches. "But I don't know yet," I nod and smoothen the lines on his forehead, "I don't think I am ready to have a business of my own. What do you suggest?"

In the past, I might have advised or pushed him to risk it all, to give it a try but Paul is one of the few people I know who believe their skills are to be shared with the world for free, no monetisation. I can never share in his sentiment but I respect his stand on the matter. He squeezes my butt, my eyes return to his face, his lips and I swallow.

"Why do you think you are not ready?" His lower lip sticks out, I pull it between my teeth. "I know you will make a good boss. You are already a great chef, the best."

Lowering my eyes to the hairs scattered across his chest in a scanty pattern, I pull out a few strands and he frowns. I pout. "I don't want to be a boss, I just want to cook."

His hand slips into my short, my teeth sink into my lips as he massages my naked butt and I forget the epistle I prepared to give him. Tracing the corner of my eyes, his thumb brushes the sunken surface and his palms on my cheeks stops me from looking away. With makeup on, it's easier to hide the bags and dark circles from lack of sleep.

He arches an eyebrow, I remove his hands from my face. "Have you been sleeping?"

I return to my former position beside him, my head connects with the pillow. "Barely."

"Why?"

My chest falls, I eye the ceiling like it holds something of interest. "You were not here."

Seconds pass before his reply, I feel his eyes on me but my gaze remains on the ceiling, he was not here when the faces jumped out or the voices whispered. But he is here now, I slept the best I have since we separated.

"I'm sorry."

Flashing him a smile, I reply, "It's not your fault." My gaze wanders to the door where those pair of evil eyes usually lurk. Nothing. His presence must have scared them off.

"I believe you are ready to own a business, you are just scared of failing," he sighs, "you don't want to disappoint your father."

"Maybe," he mutters. "I know it's not the case but sometimes I feel like he expects me to fail so he can remind me how much it was a bad idea for me to become a chef." He lets out a mirthless chuckle, I squeeze his hand to lend him comfort and wait for him to continue. "Cooking makes me happy."

The last part is spoken in a whisper as if he is ashamed to talk about it and I tickle him until he lets out a genuine laugh. "I know it does and I love watching my baby cook."

"Yeah?" I nod, one of the perks of dating a chef is experiencing the firsthand magic. "It just feels like the right thing for me to do."

"Because it is the right thing to do," I cup his face and litter kisses all over his forehead, "you were born to cook." Staring him in the eyes, I continue, "I believe in you, babe. I am always here for you and whatever you decide to do, you will have my full support."

"Even if it's to rob a bank?" I hit his arm and he lets out an exaggerated cry, I chuckle, he frowns. He will be alone on anything illegal.

One glance at the wall clock shows I have enough time until my alarm rings, I sigh, he bops my nose and I offer him a small smile. Telling him about my travel shouldn't be this difficult but it is, I feel bad for waiting this long. I will miss him and his cooking.

"You still can't sleep without the lights on?" Paul asks after a brief moment of silence. I nod, they offer a sense of protection. My eyes lower to his arm which returns to my stomach, I place my palm over it. "Don't you think it's time for you to talk to someone?"

"I'm talking to you," I say. "You're someone."

I suck in a sharp breath when he kneads my nipple without notice, my eyelids flutter and my lips part open to let out a soft sigh. He chuckles, moans escape me as his hand snakes under my shirt and my skin sizzles at the contact of his palm on my breast.

"Someone that's not me, like a professional."

Hissing at the delicious sensations coursing through me as his fingers alternate between my nipples, the back of my head digs into the pillow, I sink my teeth into my lip and cry out in pleasure. With his help, I pull off my top but he stops me from taking off the short by placing my hands above my head. Sucking my lower lip, I look to his face and wriggle under him, hoping he will take the hint to touch me everywhere he likes.

His teeth graze the skin on my neck, I gasp, my eyes partially close. He whispers into my ear, "Will you talk to a professional?"

Shivers run down my spine as his tongue flicks my earlobe, I moan and my breath grows ragged. My hard nipples beg to be loved, I bat my lashes and whimper at his feverish kisses, his seductive lips that fail to close over my breasts. His knee separates my legs, I stifle a cry when he rotates his bulge against my heated core, watching through lust-filled eyes as a mischievous smile takes over his features. I need more.

Free from his grasp, my fingers dig into his scalp and my body jerks when his mouth finally closes over a nipple. His tongue circles the taut bud, I wince when he bites hard but he comforts me by sucking gently on it. Moans of ecstasy fill the room, the throbbing in my vagina intensifies as his tongue continues its heavenly assault. I bang the back of my head against the pillow when his fingers slide into my shorts to caress the sensitive skin between my legs, his name spills from my lips in a silent cry.

Moisture seeps through my underwear, I hiss when he rubs the front of my core through the skimpy lace material. A small whimper escapes me as his finger slips into my wetness, I clutch the bedsheet and sink my teeth into my lower lip hard enough for it to draw blood. His other finger joins the first, I gasp at the ease with which he manipulates my femininity, sending me into a fit of embarrassing moans, cries and pleas for more. More of this, skin to skin contact.

"Don't stop," I breathe out when he lets go of my nipple with a pop. He pulls his hand out of my short and a weight descends on me. A feeling of loss creeps up on me like he took a part of me when he stopped. Forcing his head down between my breasts, my nails dig into his back and I cry out, "Please."

My words fall on deaf ears, he hovers above me and his knuckles brush the side of my face. I groan; I want more than his caresses, I want him in the same way a woman needs a man, desperate for him to thrust into me.

"Will you talk to a professional?" he repeats the question I pretended not to have heard. I look away but a finger on my jaw returns my gaze to his face. "Will you? Please. Do it for me." I frown. "You hate sleeping with the light on and now you can't do without it," his Adam's apple bobs, lines appear on his forehead and I scowl, "talk to someone."

Staring at me with creased brows, I whine under his scrutiny and squirm on the bed like a petulant child refusing to have her bath. He frowns, I pout and let out a sigh. I don't need to talk to anyone, this is a phase, nothing is wrong with me. I am perfect.

A dark look takes over his face, his voice holds a warning when he says, "Ifunaya."

"Fine. I'll talk to someone," I bring his hand to cover my breast, "please continue. Biko."

He hesitates, I trail a line on his solid chest. My fingers splay on his abs, our gazes meet, I maintain eye contact as my hand lowers to the waistband of the shorts I gave him for the night. His tongue darts out to lick his lip, I swallow, temporarily rendered immobile by the bundle of nerves at the anticipation in his eyes. I don't want to mess this up.

The strangled sound that escapes him when I cup his balls causes me to relax slightly, his head falls back as my fingertips brush his thick length. He hisses as my hand closes over his pulsing member, moving in an up-down motion. I gulp, my eyes on his face as my fingers circle the tip of his shaft. His eyes fly open, he grits his teeth and snatches my hand to place it above my head.

We stare at each other, our chests rising and falling as we wait for what I don't know.

"Touch me."

At my whispered command, he lets go of my wrists, I whimper at the loss of contact and at the gentleness with which he does as instructed. He traces a line on my chest, I suck on my lower lip when his finger migrates to my stomach. Giggles spill from my lips as he tickles my belly button, I flick a finger over his nipple, squeeze that tiny part of him while he chuckles and palms my breasts to the point I moan and let go.

His head dips to swallow my moans, my initial fear of ruining this night fades to the back of my mind as he sucks on my lips. Time must have paused to allow us explore each other's lips because the whirring of the AC fades. We are in a world of ours as we nibble on the sensitive flesh of our lips, taking and tasting, touching and feeling.

Heat rises from my stomach to my chest, my heart skips a beat and his taste invades my senses. Desire travels down my spine, I grant access to his tongue pressing against my lips and dig my fingernails into his scalp. He pulls away briefly to claim my lips again, his kisses become more hungry and intense as his hands weave into my hair.

Our breaths mingle, we share the same air. Paul is all I know, his masculine scent and the feel of his mouth on mine as I return his kisses with equal fervour. His hands roam my body, my stomach twists in a knot and I moan into his mouth, hungry for more.

He breaks from the kiss for us to catch our breaths. Our foreheads touch, I stare into his eyes and flash him a smile. "I love you."

"I love you back, maybe more," I whisper.

"No," he shakes his head, his finger swipes across my lips, "I love you three thousand."

Putting my emotions into the look I bestow on him, I caress his cheeks and give him a subtle nod when his head darts to my short as if asking permission to remove it. I hiss, the nerves return as his hands lower to the waistband and I lift myself high enough for him to pull it off. His fingers return to my stomach, he traces lines on my skin with a delicacy that has me falling for him all over again. My chest tightens, his head raises briefly to offer me a wink as if he knows of the thoughts that have invaded my mind.

Each touch lights up my body, goosebumps cover my skin and I shudder. I let my hands travel the length of his firm torso to his waistband, touching his load of muscles with a sensuality that has him halting at intervals to grunt his approval tinged with annoyance as I alternate between palming his bulge and kneading his nipples. My heart overflows with love for him, my mind draws blank when he flashes me a smile and I tug on his shorts until he takes it off.

Naked as the day we were born, we gaze at each other with adoration before he leans over. His breath fans my face, I blink and my fingers dig into his scalp. Nervousness laced with excitement for what will happen creeps in, I palm his cheeks, he trails kisses from the corner of my lips down to my collarbone and I melt into a puddle of love.

The kisses on my neck cause my shaky legs to fold at the knees, his fingers trace my inner thighs, I gasp when they slip in and out of my wetness effortlessly to form a toe-curling rhythm and my nails sink into his back. His fingers inside me hit the right spot over and over again, my legs tremble, I whisper his name and my eyelids flutter rapidly. Our moans fill the silence, my lips part open and my hips jerk as I caress his thick length. I need him, I need him now.

"Paul," I breathe out. "Please. I want you."

His head lowers to mine, I claim his lips in a sloppy kiss and drop my hands to clutch the sheet when his fingers curl inside me, sending wicked shivers down my body. I moan in despair when he withdraws his fingers but relax when his penis pokes my entrance. Fear returns at his hesitation, I hold my breath and lift my eyes to his face.

"What is... why? Please." Unsure what the issue is, I say, "I'm clean." He lets out a soft chuckle, I go on to add, "I'm on the pills too."

"I'm clean too," he says, "and I trust you."

The butterflies in my stomach go berserk, my heart swells with affection for him. He showers kisses all over my lips, cast me one last look at me as if seeking consent to continue, I nod and in a single motion, his manhood fills my warmth. My eyes close at the heavenly sensation of being one with him, I breathe out a sigh, I am home again.

**********

This chapter was supposed to come yesterday but electricity here has been shitty. I hope it feels like Christmas wherever you are because that's not the case here.