There's nothing like waking up next to her on a winter morning. She's so vulnerable when she's asleep, her guard down and unconscious. The fierceness in her face is softened, and almost every time I see her smile. But there's just something about the way she looks in red, the color of my sheets, that is absolutely stunning. I could watch her like that forever, and then forever again. And it's around the time that I realize this that I can no longer just watch her. I have to touch her. I have to kiss her. I have to wake her up and see those big, deep eyes and hear that voice…
She opens her eyes, one emerald at a time, and smiled gently up at me. She watches me for a minute, thinking softly, and then reaches up and kisses me back. I tell her good morning and she returns the gesture, and I lay back down beside her, snuggling into her. If I shiver, she pulls me closer, letting my head rest in the groove of her neck or on her chest. And she's always so warm, my P. Sawyer, that she makes me never want to leave my bed again.