I woke before the city did.
Blue light lay across the floor like water. The windows wore dawn thin and pale. The blue roses on the balcony faced east, a little smug about it. The penthouse smelled faintly of chocolate, clean glass, and him.
Arthur slept beside me, one arm flung toward my side of the bed as if his body didn't trust me to stay. Hair a disaster. Breathing slow. The kind of peaceful face that makes you forgive a man for regularly inviting apocalypse to dinner as a guest of honor.
Last night hit me all at once and I had to bury my face in the pillow because my cheeks were absolutely, definitively on fire.
We hadn't just kissed.
