The Next Morning
Sunlight never quite touched this place, but the ambient glow of the starlit sky filtered in gently through the expansive windows. It was a strange kind of beauty—otherworldly, like we’d fallen into a dream that didn’t want to end.
I stretched under the silky sheets, feeling the warmth of Jesse beside me before I even opened my eyes.
“Good morning, Mrs. Roberts,” his voice was a smooth rumble against my neck, lips brushing my skin.
“Mmm,” I mumbled, still drowsy. “Stop calling me that. I’m not officially your wife.”
“You will be,” he whispered confidently. “Soon.”
I turned to face him, eyes still half-closed, “You’re too smug in the mornings.”
“And you’re too cute when you’re sleepy,” he teased, leaning down to kiss my nose.
Then he got out of bed.
“Get dressed,”
