Mornings with Val were always the same: she woke up first, I clung to sleep like it was oxygen, and she made it her personal mission to ruin that for me.
I was out cold, wrapped in blankets and dreams, when something soft poked against my cheek. Once. Twice. Then again, in an irritatingly steady rhythm.
I groaned, face buried deeper into the pillow.
That only made her double down. Poke. Poke. Poke.
"Val…" My voice was gravel, my brain still clinging to the idea that I could win this battle. "I'll get up. Just give me a sec."
Except instead of giving me a second, she leaned over me, close enough that I could feel her breath against my ear. And then—warm, wet, and entirely evil—she licked it.
I shot upright with a full-body shiver, clutching the side of my face like I'd been electrocuted. "What the hell was that?!"
She was already laughing, eyes sparkling, dimples cutting into her cheeks like she'd been waiting for this moment her entire life.
> "Morning, husband."
