It’s 4AM when Mallory wakes up, according to the flashing neon lights of the alarm clock on the bedside table.
She raises herself up on her hands, the sheet slipping off her bare shoulders, and looks across at her lover.
He’d rolled over in his sleep to face her, strands of light blonde hair falling in his face. She reached out and brushed them aside, smiling slightly at the relaxed, somewhat innocent expression on his face.
You wouldn’t believe that this was a man who could kill several men without flinching and then berate you for getting injured, all with that concerned look in his eyes.
You wouldn’t believe that this was a man who had blushed when she had whispered filth into his ears and then smirked when he’d done the same back. You wouldn’t believe he was the man who left marks on her neck and moaned when she did the same.
Mallory breathed out a noise that might have been laughter and laid back down. She shifted close enough to him that she could trace his face with her fingertips. He was a handsome man, she knew that much.
She yawned and closed her eyes, smiling slightly when she felt his hand wrap around hers and squeeze gently.
cheshireinunderland 