The early morning light painted the room in soft hues, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to caress Belle's sleeping form. Ashton stirred, a dull ache settling in his arm, a stark reminder of the tumultuous night they had shared. His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring down at her, her face bathed in a gentle glow, her lips parted slightly in a peaceful slumber.
She looked like a porcelain doll, her delicate features etched with an ethereal beauty that both captivated and unsettled him. The bruises on her lips, a lingering mark of his passionate yet forceful kisses, added a fragile vulnerability to her otherwise serene expression. His gaze traced the gentle curve of her face, her long, dark lashes resting softly against her cheeks, her hair tumbling over the pillow li
