The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the chaos.

The duvet was hanging halfway off the bed, one of the pillows was on the floor, your silk camisole draped haphazardly over the lamp like some careless trophy. The air still smelled faintly of cologne and sweat and champagne.

And Xavier—well, Xavier looked maddeningly composed for someone who’d been the reason the room looked like a hurricane passed through. He was on his back beside you, hair pushed back, chest rising steady, one arm tucked under his head. Even in sleep, his mouth curved slightly, like he knew. Like he was proud of every mark he’d left.

You groaned, tugging the sheet up over yourself, scanning the wreckage with disbelief. A heel lay by the dresser. His belt was slung across the chair. One drawer of your nightstand had been knocked open, spilling lip balm and pens onto the carpet. The sight made you laugh under your breath.

He stirred at the sound, eyes blinking open, dark and lazy. “Morning,” he rasped, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Morning?” you repeated incredulously. “Xavier, look at this place.”

He turned his head, surveying the room with an unhurried glance before settling back on you. “Looks fine to me.”

“Fine? My bed frame is crooked.”

“Not my fault you’re so… enthusiastic,” he teased, reaching out to hook an arm around your waist and pull you back into him.

You swatted his chest lightly. “This is ridiculous. What if someone comes in?”

He buried his face in your neck, mumbling against your skin. “No one’s coming in. And even if they did, they’d just know I’ve got the most beautiful fiancée alive.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. Still, you tried to sound stern. “We need to clean this up.”

Instead of moving, he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, then another. “Later. Right now, the only thing messy I care about is your hair.” His hand tangled gently through it, smug grin widening.

And just like that, you were laughing again, realizing that maybe—just maybe—the mess wasn’t a problem at all. It was proof of everything you felt for him, raw and uncontained.