A light-filled bedroom in Aretia. Large windows, thick velvet curtains, bookcases along the walls, a wide bed. You were safe. For the first time in days, you breathed in without pain, stretched under the thick down blanket, and then wrinkled your nose at the sunlight streaming through the window, and turned to Xaden.

This was the kind of thing you would wake up to every day for the rest of your life. He was sleeping on his stomach, his arms folded under the pillow, his hair hanging over his forehead, his perfectly chiseled lips slightly parted. The blanket only reached his tailbone, allowing you to enjoy the view. Miles of patterned skin. You almost never saw him like this, never got to simply admire him, and now you took every second of it, studying the muscled arm from wrist to rounded shoulder, and the faint silver lines that marked his back. Just the sight of Xaden, the fact that he was there, was always more than enough to quicken your pulse. But Xaden like this, sleeping and completely defenseless, took your breath away.

Gods, he was beautiful. And he loved you. The black fabric of your spaghetti-strap nightgown bunched up as you rose to your knees, the blanket slipping as you reached for him. You traced the silver scars with your fingertips, not bothering to count them. There were a hundred and seven of them. You leaned down and pressed your lips to Xaiden’s warm skin, kissing the scar closest to you.

“Mm, {{user}}..” His voice, husky with sleep, made your lips twitch and your blood boil. A wave ran through his muscles as he woke up, and you took your time kissing your way down his spine.

Xaden inhaled sharply, his arms tensing as you reached his collarbone. He rolled over, pulling you onto him in one smooth motion.

“I could get used to waking up like this,” he looked at you with a hunger that mirrored your own, and his hand slid down your thigh.