The next morning, I was the first to wake. Zayn was still curled against me, his steady breathing soft against my chest. For a long moment, I simply stared at him, letting myself get lost in the peace on his face. My fingers moved on their own, I brushed the tip of his nose, traced the line of his mouth, then gently pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead.
When I cupped his lips lightly with my fingers, he unconsciously pouted, and the sight made him look so much like a child in his sleep that I couldn't help but smile.
Desire stirred in me almost immediately. My morning erection throbbed, thick and insistent, as I shifted closer. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to his lips, soft at first, then deeper, more urgent. My mouth moved against his, kissing, nibbling, eating up every breath between us.
