The first pale rays of dawn slipped through the half-open curtains of Auberge Lumière's deluxe suite, painting soft gold across the floor.
Charlotte was already awake.
She lay on her back with one arm curved protectively around Brandon's waist while her other hand rested lightly in his tousled hair.
He is sleeping on top of her with his face buried in the warm hollow of her neck.
His bare chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm with hers as the old scar across his back caught the faint morning light.
Charlotte's black tank top had twisted slightly in the night, exposing a sliver of her midriff, but she hadn't moved to fix it.
Her fingers moved in slow, absent circles through his hair, and every so often her thumb would brush the shell of his ear or trace the faint stubble along his jaw.
She felt the moment he began to wake up as a small, sleepy hum rumbled against her collarbone.
Brandon's lashes fluttered, and he slowly blinked, still dazzled from sleepiness.
