The Morning He Said It
Aria
I woke up to his mouth on my shoulder.
Not urgent. Not the kind of waking up that meant something was happening or someone needed something or the world had decided to deliver another crisis before breakfast. Just his mouth, warm and slow, pressing against my shoulder like he’d been awake for a while and had decided this was a reasonable thing to do with the time.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t let him know I was awake yet.
Just lay there and felt it — the specific luxury of being woken up gently by someone who wanted to and had nowhere to rush to, his mouth moving from my shoulder to the curve of my neck, his arm already around my waist, his body warm against my back.
“I know you’re awake,” he said against my skin.
“I was enjoying the deniability,” I said.
He m
