The Day I Stopped Waiting Was the Day He Started Begging novel Chapter 53

Madeline's lashes fluttered, but her eyes remained shut, showing no signs of waking up.

York smiled softly, his fingers unconsciously tracing the delicate arch of her brow.

If she were awake, she'd definitely snap at him and throw out a few sarcastic jabs.

But asleep, she was as docile as a kitten, quietly resting with her eyes closed, allowing him close without a hint of resistance.

If she stayed this tame all the time, though, she wouldn't be the stubborn, icy Madeline he knew.

He carefully grabbed his phone from the pillow, turned down the brightness, and steadied the camera over her sleeping face.

Through the lens, the usual aloofness was completely gone. Her breathing was steady, and the warm, golden light cast a stunningly soft glow over her features.

His finger paused before tapping the shutter. He carefully set the device aside and tightened his embrace, pulling her closer against him.

His grip was firm enough to keep her near, yet gentle enough not to wake her.

Only in her sleep did she drop all her defenses. It was the only time they could exist in total peace, the only moment he could truly get close to her without fear of rejection.

...

When Madeline woke up, her entire body tensed as she instantly realized something was wrong.

She was locked securely in York's arms. His warm breath ruffled the top of her hair, and his familiar scent carried the faint, musky hint of his cologne.

They always said scent was tied to the strongest memories, and it was absolutely true.

A wave of disorientation washed over her. For a split second, she couldn't tell if this was reality or if she was drowning in a forbidden dream from the past.

In a daze, time seemed to rewind to the very beginning of their marriage two years ago.

There had been countless mornings where they woke up tangled together just like this. Back then, she loved tracing his features while he slept; it was the only time he didn't seem so untouchable.

He strolled closer, boxing her in against the vanity with one extended arm. A playful, predatory smirk danced in his eyes.

"You nestled perfectly in my arms all night, and the second you wake up, you ice me out? Am I just your human body pillow?"

Madeline shoved her face towel directly into his chest.

He lowered his voice, loading it with implication. "You weren't nearly this frosty last night, Ms. Monroe."

Madeline's expression didn't waver. Her tone remained completely detached.

"York, clearly you're still half-asleep. Wash your face and snap out of it."

She looked up at him, her eyes calm and unreadable, wearing her standard, emotionless professional smile.

"Everyone claims prosecutors are strictly honorable and speak the absolute truth. Turns out, you're quite skilled at lying through your teeth."