The spring sunlight carried its unique tenderness, penetrating the beautiful floor-to-ceiling window and shining on the couple inside.
Isabella Weaver woke up to the sunlight and birdsong, only to find herself held in Harry Hunter's arms, intimately pressed together.
Her man was still asleep, those cold and fierce eyes closed, long eyelashes like little fans, beautifully softening his whole appearance.
His features were so handsome, straight nose, slightly messy short hair, yet making Isabella's heart flutter.
She leaned in to kiss his chin, then closed her eyes pretending to sleep.
After waiting for a while, seeing Harry still asleep, she sneaked another kiss.
A moment later, just as she was about to steal a third kiss, she was caught red-handed.
"The sleeping Prince usually wakes up with just one kiss, Princess, you're kissing so many times, the Prince can't pretend anymore."
Isabella's face turned red, kicking him under the blanket: "When did you wake up?!"
