A low sound dragged itself from my throat, the kind of groggy protest that came from being torn out of sleep too early. The sheets were still heavy with warmth, the room still dark with the last traces of night. I shifted, half-ready to roll over, when something caught me—no, someone.
A hand. Sliding under the blanket. Sliding into my pants.
I blinked, not fully awake, and forced my eyes open. Val was already grinning at me, smug, victorious, like she'd been planning this since last night. Her hand didn't stop moving.
"Morning, husband," she whispered, her voice soft and dangerous at the same time.
My head tilted toward the nightstand clock. 5:43 a.m.
I groaned. "Uh… what… are you…? At this time?"
She arched a brow, her smirk widening as if the answer was obvious. "Playing with what's mine."
I shut my eyes again, dragging a hand over my face. "Val… it's too early."
