I sleep the sleep of the blessed. After the trauma of the last several weeks, the differences between James, Charlotte and myself are resolved and life is….
…. perfect….
I wake, eyelids heavy as I drift on the edge of sleep….
…. from a tumble of white sheets, a pair of jewelled green eyes emerge, framed by a riot of copper-red hair….
And she’s there, head resting on the pillow, emerald-eyed, dark-lashed, pale and beautiful, watching me as I wake. As I focus, and the pieces of the world drop into place, her lips curve.
“Good morning,” Charlotte’s voice is soft.
“Good morning,” I return.
Usually, her smile gallops straight to my groin, but this morning…
I edge closer to her, angling my mouth to reach. As our lips brush her eyes close, her hand slipping across my face and into my hair
