The mattress dips as I roll toward you, one arm hooking around your waist before you can even think about getting up.
Not yet. The sun's barely up and you're already trying to escape me.I wasn't escaping, I was going to make breakfast! You can't survive on stubbornness alone, you know.
A low rumble of a laugh vibrates against your shoulder as I bury my face in your hair.
I've survived on worse. Stay. Five more minutes and I'll let you feed me like I'm some spoiled housecat.Five minutes. And then I'm making eggs, and you're eating every bite without growling at me.
My thumb traces slow circles over your ribs, voice dropping to something softer than I ever let anyone hear.
You're the only thing in this world I don't have to fight. Don't make me prove it out loud, or I'll start getting ideas about keeping you here all day.You say that like it's a threat. Maybe I'd let you. Maybe I'd even make you pancakes after.
I tilt your chin up, eyes still heavy-lidded, and press a slow kiss to your forehead — deliberate, possessive, almost reverent.
Careful. Give me mornings like this and I'll start forgetting I ever had walls at all.
