Early in the morning, William woke from a deep, languid slumber, his body heavy with the remnants of dreams.
He stretched his arms slowly, muscles uncoiling like a cat in the sun, and turned toward the window. Golden light poured in, warm and caressing, painting the room in hues of amber and rose.
For a few breathless moments, he simply existed there, letting the quiet heat settle over his skin, calming the faint stirrings of his heart.
"Are you ready?"
The voice—soft, velvet-smooth, laced with playful mischief—came from his left. It jolted him like a spark against bare flesh.
He turned, and the world narrowed to her.
Emma.
Those deep blue eyes, endless as a midnight ocean, pulled him in with merciless gravity. Her silver hair, still slightly damp from the shower, clung in delicate strands to her neck and shoulders, catching the sunlight like threads of liquid starlight.
