Seventeen
This was, Idris thought, exactly what he had hoped for — to wake up in his bed and see the morning light filtering through the curtains at the tall windows, to look down and see the most beautiful, the most precious, woman in the world lying there next to him, her pale hair glistening against the white damask of the pillowcase. She still slept, her breasts beneath their covering of sheets rising and falling slightly as she breathed the regular breaths of deep slumber. While he normally would have gotten out of bed to go to the window and look at the new day and its promise, he stayed where he was, gazing at the marvel of the woman he loved and wondering how he had been lucky enough to get to this place.
They had made love again after that initial time, more slowly, more deliber
