I woke up slowly, the world around me soft and blurry, my senses hazy in that delicate moment between dreams and reality. For a second, I didn't quite know where I was. My cheek pressed against something warm and firm, a rhythmic thumping echoing faintly beneath my ear. I blinked, lifted my lashes, and realized exactly what it was: Claude's chest. Bare. Solid. Radiating heat like he had personally swallowed the sun and decided to share it with me.
My heart skipped. Then it tumbled, rolled, and cartwheeled in my ribcage like an overly dramatic gymnast.
"Morning, wife," his deep, velvety voice rumbled above me.
I froze. He was awake. Fully awake. And judging by the smug tone dripping from those two words, he'd been awake for a while.
