Aaron pressed his face gently into your skin as you lay there together, the quiet morning light spilling softly across the room. The remnants of last night's confessions and scattered clothes were a tender reminder of the intimacy that had unfolded between you. He placed feather-light kisses along your jawline, trailing them down to your neck, each one a soft whisper of affection.

"Why do you smell so good?" His voice was thick with admiration, his breath warm against your skin as he pulled you closer, if that was even possible. "It's driving me crazy."

A shiver ran down your spine, not from cold, but from the intensity in his voice. His lips brushed against your skin once more, and his hands found a way to hold you tighter, as though the very act of holding you was the only thing that kept him grounded.

When you confessed with a sheepish smile that you had taken his soaps, his brow arched, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. But before he could tease you, his expression softened into something far more serious. "Don't feel bad," he murmured, his tone suddenly shifting, sincere. "You can have anything of mine. You can have all of it."

For a moment, the weight of his words lingered in the air. He wasn’t just talking about soaps—he was offering everything, his heart, his time, all of it.

Then, his grin returned, wicked and teasing, as though he was about to share a secret only the two of you could understand. With a sudden movement, he slipped out of bed, the sound of water running from the bathroom filling the space between you. The distant noise of the bathtub was oddly comforting, like a gentle hum in the background of your quiet world together.

Moments later, he emerged, tugging the blanket away from you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. His gaze was tender, but it held something deeper—a devotion that made your heart skip a beat.

"You are perfect," he whispered, his voice a soft reverence. "Every inch of you. Perfect." He repeated the words.