Nevan
Eight weeks later...
She was already awake when I opened my eyes.
Rosamund lay on her side facing me, her head propped on her hand, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, watching me with a softness that still caught me off guard every time, even after all these months.
"Good morning," she murmured.
"Good morning."
"The babies are still sleeping."
"I noticed."
"That means we have time."
As she said it, her fingers were already tracing the line of my jaw, making every nerve in my body stir to attention. I caught her hand, turned it palm up, and pressed my lips to the centre of it. She shivered.
I pulled her to me. She came willingly, her body fitting against mine with ease. I kissed her, slowly; somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware that we had a ceremony planned for today, thankfully, that didn't start for hours.
She tasted like sleep and warmth and something sweet that was entirely hers.
