LEAH
Hefty, uneven breaths echoing through the early morning silence stir me from sleep. It takes me a moment to realize they're not mine. They're his. The sound draws me in, urging me to turn over, and when I do, the sight that greets me steals whatever remnants of sleep I have left.
He lies beside me, bare-chested and beautiful in the kind of way that makes my breath hitch. The duvet has slipped down below his waist, revealing the sculpted lines of his abdomen, the dips and ridges of muscle carved like art into bronze. His arms are folded loosely beneath his head, biceps taut even in rest, veins visible beneath the skin.
The moonlight filtering through the curtains casts a soft glow across his skin, making him look almost unreal. His face is softer now in sleep. The sharp edge
