I woke up to the sound of soft rustling, the faint golden light of morning spilling into the room. Ciara, with her fiery hair mussed from sleep, was sprawled halfway across me, her arm thrown lazily over my stomach.
Her peaceful expression made me smile. For someone who was a force of chaos when awake, she looked almost angelic in sleep—almost.
I shifted slightly, trying to untangle myself without waking her, but as I moved, her arm tightened around me.
"You're not going anywhere," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.
I laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Good morning to you too."
She cracked one eye open, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Morning," she replied, pulling me closer. "You can't escape me. Not now, not ever."
"You say that like I'm trying to escape," I teased, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"Good," she said, rolling on top of me playfully. Her weight wasn't oppressive; it was comforting, grounding even. "Because you're mine."
