Morning came gently.
Clara woke to warmth—solid, unmistakable warmth wrapped around her middle. Nathaniel was pressed against her from behind, one arm slung securely over her waist, his forehead tucked into the back of her neck as if he'd decided, sometime in the night, that letting go simply wasn't an option.
She smiled before she even opened her eyes.
She shifted slightly, testing him.
His arm tightened immediately.
Clara laughed softly. "You really don't want to let go, huh?"
His voice was still thick with sleep when he answered, lips brushing her shoulder. "Why would I?"
She turned just enough to look at him. His eyes were half-open, unfocused but warm. "You're clinging to me."
"I'm hugging you," he corrected calmly. "And I'm allowed to now. I need to take advantage of it."
She giggled, the sound light and unguarded. "You're ridiculous."
"Mm. Maybe," he said, tightening his hold again. "But I missed this."
