IRIS

I wake up slowly, the kind of slow that feels warm and safe, the kind that makes me want to keep my face buried in the pillow forever. But before I even open my eyes, I feel it. Someone watching me. Someone close. I blink, lift my lashes, and there he is. Darian. Stretched on his side, head propped against his palm, smiling at me like I am the sun.

He says, “Good morning.”

I feel my lips curve before my brain catches up. “Good morning.”

He doesn't stop smiling. I lift my hand, curl my fingers around the back of his neck, and kiss him. Morning kisses are...