The sunlight creeping through the curtains was the first thing I sensed. The second thing was the weight of an arm wrapped firmly around my waist—warm, heavy, and way too possessive.
The third thing?
Pain.
Not the painful kind—just the unmistakable soreness of someone who had been excessively loved last night.
I groaned into the pillow. "Hugo… I swear… I'll throw you out the window one day…"
The arm around me tightened. "Good morning to you too," Hugo murmured, voice still raspy from sleep—deep, warm, dangerously attractive. "You're awake."
"I'd prefer to be unconscious again," I muttered, trying to stretch, only to immediately regret it. "Ow—Hugo!"
He shifted, propping his head on his elbow so he could look down at me. The moment I saw his face, my blood pressure skyrocketed.
He looked smug.
Unreasonably smug.
The kind of smug that said I did something amazing last night and I have no regrets.
