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Lucy

The morning sun, a mischievous wink through the blinds, painted golden stripes across our bed. I snuggled deeper into the warmth of David's embrace, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a soothing lullaby. He slipped his hand across my lower back. The warmth of his bare skin against mine set a spark of pleasure through me. He rumbled low and content into my hair.

“Wake up,” David rumbled. He kissed my head and twined a curl around his finger. “We have things to do.”

“You shouldn’t have kept me up all night.”

He chuckled. “You didn’t say that last night.”

I nudged him. He dipped his head to nip my lips.

“You know, if it’s too much, you can always tell me to slow down.”

He’d been saying that for five years now, and I never found a reason to tell him to. He knew that. His eyes flickered between colors. I nipped his lower lip.

“Give me a reason.”

He smirked and rolled me onto my back. “To slow down or…”

“To get up,” I said as he kissed
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Ruth Guerrero
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