The first thing Daphne became aware of was warmth.
Not just the soft glow of sunlight spilling through the curtains, but the solid weight of an arm curled firmly around her waist.
She tilted her head slightly to study him.
His features were softened by sleep. He looked almost boyish.
Her lips curved faintly. Last night's words still rang in her ears;
You are mine. Always.
She lifted a hand, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his brow.
He stirred at once, pulling her closer.
"You're awake," his voice came, husky and rough with sleep.
"I am," she whispered back. "But you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you."
His eyes opened, and a faint smirk touched his lips. "I don't sleep peacefully, Daphne," he murmured, his thumb stroking her hips. "Not unless you're here. In my arms."
Heat spread through her chest at the simple confession.
"You were fierce last night," she teased.
His smirk deepened, though his gaze remained intense.
