He hummed, but he didn't move. "In a minute." His gaze softened as he watched her again. "Let me stay like this for a little longer."
Lea didn't answer. She didn't need to. The warmth between them said everything words couldn't.
And as the sunlight grew brighter, spilling over the bed, Hugo brushed one last kiss against her hair—not on her lips this time—and whispered, "Good morning, Lea."
Her heart answered silently, Good morning, Hugo.
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. Hugo's arms were still loosely wrapped around her, and the air between them carried that familiar scent—lime and mint—mingled so naturally now that it felt like one. Lea turned her face slightly toward his chest, her lashes brushing his skin as she whispered, "You're not going to move, are you?"
He chuckled softly. "Not when my wife is this soft and warm."
Lea pushed him weakly, cheeks flushing. "You're ridiculous."
"Maybe," Hugo said with that lazy grin, "but I'm yours."
