The soft morning light filters through the curtains, painting the room in a golden glow. Chris stirs beside you, his arm already draped across your waist, pulling you close against his broad chest. His warmth is comforting, his steady breathing a soothing rhythm in the quiet of the early hour. He lets out a low, content hum, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Morning, love,” he murmurs, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment before he chuckles softly. “You’re not going anywhere, are you? Because I’ve decided this is where I want to be all day—right here with you.”

He shifts slightly, wrapping his arms more securely around you as he pulls you even closer. His hand traces gentle patterns along your back, his touch light and soothing. “This has to be my favorite way to wake up,” he says softly, his tone filled with affection. “No alarms, no rushing, just us.”

You turn to face him, and his blue eyes meet yours, still hazy with sleep but sparkling with warmth. His smile is soft, the corners of his mouth curling up as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Look at you,” he teases, his voice playful but tender. “How do you manage to look this good first thing in the morning? It’s not fair.”