Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 94: The Morning After

The sun was rude.

Too bright. Too warm. Too real.

The light poured through the tall windows like it was, perhaps, unaware of what had unfolded the night before, or maybe it did and just wanted to show off, casting everything in soft golden shades as if to remember the mess we had made.

I squinted against the brightness and groaned a bit while stretching. Every part of me felt sore in ways I didn’t expect, but oddly, it felt good. It was like I had been pulled apart and put back together, left in this strange state.

I woke up feeling warm. Not from the sun, but from the arms wrapped around me, with one leg tangled with mine, and his nose buried in my hair like he hadn’t shifted all night.

Adrien.

His chest moved steadily under my cheek, warm and relaxed, but his grip was firm, as if he had no intention of letting me go, even while sleeping.

For a moment, I stopped moving.

My heart kicked. We did... all of that.

The kitchen. The bed. The... fourth time. Or was it the fifth? He’d practically made me see the stars—and then laughed about it afterward.

God, how was I supposed to go back to normal after this?

His thumb brushed against my hip, a slow, unconscious stroke.

He was awake.

"You’re staring again," he murmured, voice gravelly with sleep.

I blinked up at him. "You were asleep."

"I can feel you staring. It’s intense. Bunny-level intense."

I groaned into his chest. "Don’t start."

He laughed, low and rumbling. "Too late."

We lay there in comfortable silence for a few seconds. His skin looked even more unfairly perfect in daylight.

"I can’t move," I admitted.

Adrien looked smug. "That’s because you kept begging for one more round."

"I did not beg."

He grinned. "Squeaked."

"I will suffocate you with this pillow."

"Tempting. But I’ve already died a few times last night." He stretched lazily, muscles flexing as he rolled onto his side to face me. "Worth every second."

"Arrogant peacock," I muttered.

He kissed my forehead like it was a reward. "And you’re still in my bed."

Silence stretched a bit and his thumb traced an idle circle at my hip, maddeningly gentle. I tried and failed not to melt. Then the spiral began: What are we? Was his apology real?

"We should... talk," I blurted. "Because technically we’re still in a fake relationship and that" I paused "was very, very not‑fake."

Adrien’s brow lifted a fraction. "You think it was performance?"

"Well—" My words tumbled out. "You’re you, I’m me. Maybe it was convincing method acting?"

His gaze sharpened, voice soft but iron‑sure. "You thought every word in that kitchen was rehearsal?"

"No," I said eventually. "Just... confusing."

"Want me to make it even more confusing?"

"Adrien—"

He kissed my shoulder. "Too soon?"

I opened my mouth, closed it. He got serious and tilted his head, one of those little moves that always made everyone pay attention in meetings.

"Do you want me to spell it out?"

"Maybe," I whispered, hating how hopeful it sounded.

He leaned closer, lifting my chin with his thumb. We stayed quiet for a moment, then, as soft as a promise:

"I love you."

The whole room shifted. My heart was racing. He kept talking, using few words but making it clear. "I love you, Isabella."

What I said last night?

In the kitchen?

It was real. All of it.

I let out a shaky laugh. "You talk more when you’re confessing."

"Only need few words." His hand slid to cover mine on the sheets, warm and steady. "I chose us—last night and every morning after, if you’ll have me."

"Adrien..." I whispered, voice barely audible.

"Say it," he urged. "Tell me."

I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry. "I love you too," I finally managed, the words spilling out quickly.

A slow smile spread across his face. "God, I was hoping you’d say that."

"Come here," he said in a low voice. "We have some making up to do."

I hesitated. My heart racing. "I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We should probably focus on—"

He grabbed my wrist, tugging me back under the covers. I landed on his chest with an ’oof’, my hands splaying over hard, warm muscle. "The only thing we need to focus on is right here," Adrien growled, nipping at my ear. His fingers slid down my back to grip my rear. "Starting with this ass. I spent all night worshipping this ass."

I shivered, pleasure exploding in me like a live wire. " You worshipped more than my ass all night," I breathed, pumping my hips into his. I could feel him hardening beneath me.

"In my dreams," he replied, voice strained. "But in your nightmares? I barely even got a ’hello’ before you were tongue-fucking my face."

I blushed, a giggle escaping me against my will. "You weren’t complaining then."

"No, but I made up for it later." His grin was pure mischeivious. "When I had you screaming my name like we were in a damn horror movie."

I smacked his chest. "I did not scream that loud."

He scoffed. "You did."

"Whatever. It was your fault anyway. If you hadn’t—"

He cut me off with a kiss, rolling us over so he was blanketing me. I gasped against his mouth. "You talk too much," he accused, nipping my lower lip. "Let me put that tongue to better use."

And just like that, we were back at it. Limbs tangling. Skin slick with sweat. The world narrowed down to his hands on my body, the heavy weight of him on top of me, he was inside me again, thick and hard, and oh god, I’d never get used to this. To the way he stretched me open, the way he made me ache in the best way possible.

"You feel so good," he groaned, pinning my hands above my head. "Like you were made for me. Made to take me."

His eyes darkened. His jaw clenched. Something flickered across his face way too fast for me to process before he ducked his head, He kissed me fiercely. Filthily. Like he was trying to crawl inside me and never come out.

And when he let me come, finally, it ripped out of me as a scream. He swallowed it down, muffling the sound against his palm. He muffled it again when he chased his release, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering, as he lost himself entirely inside me.

For a long moment after that, we just laid there. Sweating. Panting. The weight of Adrien bearing down on me into the mattress in the absolutely best way. Eventually he rolled off, taking me with him so I was half on top of him.

I nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in. He smelled like sex and sleep and something so perfectly Adrien. "That was..." I trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Mm?" he prompted, rubbing my back.

"Everything," I finished, the word surprisingly close to a whisper. freёweɓnovel_com

Adrien laughed and tightened his arms around me. "Careful," he warned. "Keep saying shit like that and I’ll have to keep you here all day."

My heart skipped a bit. I pulled back, so I could look into his face, eyes searching. "Would that be so bad?"

He stilled, his expression sharpening. His hand moved up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing the bone. "You sure you want to start down this path?" he asked quietly. "Because once we do... there’s no going back."

A faint knock broke the spell.

"Master Adrien, are you awake?" Thomas’s muffled voice drifted through the door.

Adrien rested his forehead to mine, sigh in his chest. "Yes, Thomas." (Deep, clipped—still Adrien.) "Five minutes."

"Very good, sir. Breakfast will be ready." Footsteps receded.

Adrien’s eyes returned to mine. "Hungry?"

"For food or you?" I muttered, then clapped a hand over my mouth. Why do I talk?

He chuckled—an actual laugh—and rolled out of bed. "Both"

I then looked at the clock on the wall. 12:46 p.m.

Goodness.

Bolting up, I pulled the sheet up to my chest. "Work. What time is the meeting today?"

Adrien didn’t even flinch. "Postponed."

"What? Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders, clearly unbothered. "I told them I had a personal emergency."

I gaped at him. "You used me as an excuse?"

He grinned. "Technically, you were the emergency. You looked like you were about to faint halfway through round—"

I threw a pillow at his face.

He caught it midair, laughing.

"Relax," he said. "I cleared both our mornings. You’ve earned a break."

I hesitated. I should be annoyed at his bossy tendency to rearrange my schedule like he owned it. But the truth was... I did feel like I’d been hit by a very attractive, very smug freight train.

My legs were still jelly.

And my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl.

Adrien raised a brow. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

His eyes sparkled. "I’d offer breakfast in bed, but knowing you, you’ll accuse me of plotting round seven."

I narrowed my eyes. "You’re not."

"Relax, bunny," he said with a soft laugh, already pulling away to sit up. "I’ll behave. For now."

I tried not to notice the way his muscles moved under his skin as he stood and stretched.

Tried harder not to stare at his very naked, very perfect—

"Eyes up here," he teased.

"I wasn’t looking," I lied, covering my face with a pillow.

He laughed, walked over to grab a robe, then tossed a second one onto the bed. "Put this on before you tempt me again. I’m hanging on by a thread, and it’s frayed."

"You’re ridiculous."

He laughed and carried me. "come on, lets go eat"

"I can walk, you know?"

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