The mornings are always the best. The mornings are where she feels loved.
The first sensation she's aware of is warmth. It cascades along the curve of her body, kissing the flesh and pulling her from the pleasure of sleep. She opens her eyes slowly, blinking against the brilliant light of dawn pouring in through their bedroom window.
Theirs. All of this, the life they've managed to build - it belongs to them.
And the next sensation? Oh, it's the best of them all, the one she's grown more than accustomed to these past six months. The next is warm lips at the back of her neck, pressing shivers down her spine as his fingers trace little circles along her hip. Her belly flutters in anticipation, her blood racing suddenly despite the last remnants of sleep that linger still in her bones. He presses his body hard to hers, naked chest to naked back, and she shudders a baby soft sigh because she never ever thought she could feel like this again. Never believed she was meant for this, for love. Not after Peter. Not after all the sins of her past.
But with him, with Victor, the past fades away. It becomes lifted in a breeze, feather light, and makes her feel worthy again. With him, she's just a young woman, in love with a soul as broken as her own. With Victor, for the first time in a long time, she's home.
"Morning," he says finally, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.
Red smiles and stares out into the window across the room. "Morning," she whispers back, reaching down to lace her fingers with his, pressing his hand to her abdomen.
And then she rolls over to face him, her mouth finding his in the softest of kisses. She relaxes into his embrace, tucks her head beneath his chin, and when his lips find the top of her head, she smiles.
She never once thought that after all this time the mornings could be so sweet. Somehow she thinks they'll only keep getting better.