Page 30 of A Mistake of Worth
When Henri emerged a few minutes later, the sleep pants hung slightly loose on his leaner frame, riding low on his hips. Something about seeing Henri in his clothes made warmth settle deep in Michael’s chest.
“These are really soft,” Henri said, running his hand down his thigh.
Michael smiled. “You like them?”
Henri nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never had anything this comfortable.”
The simple admission hit Michael harder than it should have. Such a basic comfort, soft clothes to sleep in, and Henri had been denied even that. He pulled Henri onto the bed, arranging them so Henri’s back was pressed against his chest.
“Fair warning, I’m a cuddler,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around Henri’s waist. “Feel free to elbow me if I start accidentally smothering you in my sleep.”
Henri’s laugh was soft. “I promise to defend myself if necessary.”
The simple domesticity of holding Henri, of having him safe in Michael’s bed, made something in his chest tighten. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Henri’s neck and settled in for the night, keeping his protective hold even as sleep began to claim them both.
Chapter six
Michael
Michaelwokeslowly,pleasedto find he hadn’t completely smothered Henri during the night, though they were still tangled together. Henri stirred in his arms, turning to face him with a soft, sleepy sound.
Michael tightened his hold, drawing Henri closer against his chest. Henri melted into the embrace without hesitation, his body relaxing completely as though this was exactly where he belonged. His face was peaceful in the morning light, free of the tension that had marked it the night before. The soft rise and fall of his breathing, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks, the slight part of his lips.
Something warm unfurled in Michael’s chest as he studied Henri’s features. He’d never been one to believe in love at first sight. Had always thought it was romantic nonsense, the stuff of movies and novels. But if he were the type to believe in suchthings, if he allowed himself to entertain the possibility, this moment would make a compelling argument.
Henri’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Michael’s gaze. A small, genuine smile curved his lips. “Morning,” he murmured, voice sleep-rough.
“Morning,” Michael replied softly, unable to resist pressing gentle kisses along Henri’s jaw. Henri hummed contentedly, tilting his head to give Michael better access.
They lay there for several minutes, neither wanting to break the peaceful moment. Henri’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Michael’s chest while Michael’s hand smoothed through his hair.
“Stay here,” Michael said eventually, pressing one more kiss to Henri’s temple. “Relax. No rush. I’ll get breakfast started.”
“You sure?” Henri asked, though he made no move to leave the warmth of the bed.
“Absolutely.” Michael reluctantly disentangled himself and stood, pulling on yesterday’s clothes.
As he headed toward the door, he glanced back. Henri had already shifted to Michael’s side of the bed, face buried in Michael’s pillow, arms wrapped around it. The image sent another wave of warmth through Michael’s chest.
He smiled and headed downstairs, already planning pancakes in his head.
The kitchen felt too quiet without Henri’s presence, so Michael hummed softly while he worked. He mixed the batter from scratch, heated the griddle, and prepared coffee with generous cream and sugar. Henri seemed like he’d have a sweet tooth, and the thought made Michael smile. Something about imagining Henri’s face lighting up at the first sweet sip felt unbearably endearing.
He was flipping the last of the first batch when Henri appeared in the doorway, the borrowed sleep pants rode low on his hips, and Michael’s shirt hung loose on his frame.
“Perfect timing,” Michael said, sliding a plate across the marble counter. Steam rose from the golden stack, and Henri’s eyes widened slightly.
Henri wrapped both hands around the coffee mug Michael had left for him, inhaling deeply before taking a tentative sip. His face relaxed into surprise. “How’d you know how I take my coffee?”
“Lucky guess.” Michael flipped another pancake onto the growing stack, glancing over to catch Henri’s skeptical expression.
“Bullshit,” Henri said, but he was smiling.
Michael just grinned, focusing on sprinkling fresh blueberries onto the pancake still cooking. He could feel Henri watching him, could sense the quiet contentment radiating from where he sat at the breakfast island.
Henri cut into his pancakes, studying the bite before taking it. His eyes closed briefly as he chewed. “These are incredible. I haven’t had pancakes since I was a kid.”
“Really ?” Michael turned to face him fully, spatula still in hand. “Not a breakfast person?”
