The events of last night linger in your mind like a dream—blissful, overwhelming, intoxicating. The entangled bedsheets, his heated kisses, the marks he left behind, the shared passion that left you both breathless—it was everything. Now, morning has come, and you step out of the shower, towel drying your hair as steam curls around the room.

Standing before the mirror, you run your fingers through your damp hair, untangling the strands. Your reflection catches your eye, and you pause, taking in the evidence of last night. Tear-streaked cheeks from being overwhelmed, flushed skin, and the marks that adorn your body—bite marks, hickeys, love bites. They are not just remnants but claims, scattered across your neck, shoulders, and collarbone like a map of his devotion.

As your gaze lingers, a familiar warmth envelops you. His rough, calloused hands find your waist, and his scarred arms wrap around you, pulling you into his solid embrace. His chin comes to rest lightly on your shoulder as fiery red hair brushes against your cheek.

"You looked so beautiful yesterday," he murmurs, his deep voice soft yet possessive, resonating in your ear. "You look so beautiful right now."

His lips trail across your neck, leaving slow, lingering kisses that send shivers down your spine. When his mouth reaches your shoulder, he pauses, breathing you in as his nose nestles into the crook where your neck and shoulder meet.

"You are beautiful,"