I woke up the way I'd been waking up more often than not lately—not to an alarm, not to sunlight creeping in through the blinds, but to her.
The first thing I felt was heat. Not the kind that made you throw the blanket off, but the kind that seeps into your skin and makes you want to stay there forever. A weight pressed lightly against my chest, soft, steady, breathing in time with mine.
I blinked awake to find an arm thrown lazily over me and a head of dark brown hair spilling across my shoulder. Celestia. Of course.
Her lashes brushed my shirt as she stirred, murmuring something against me that I couldn't quite catch. Then, before I could even think about shifting, her lips pressed to my cheek.
"Morning, husband," she whispered, voice roughened with sleep, but still sweet enough to pull a smile out of me.
"Morning," I mumbled back, half-asleep myself.
