Jane
Coiled like a metal wire, she woke. Her eyes snapped open and she realized quickly that she was utterly naked. One of her legs was sandwiched wantonly between Charles', while one of his arms wound possessively around her waist. The bedcovers had fallen to their hips, but she hadn't even noticed the cold due to the immense waves of heat rolling off of Charles' chest. Her husband was dead asleep, his head and its mess of curls resting heavily against her shoulder.
Merciful Father, she had not expected this. How was she going to survive married life if every morning began with such temptations? Any attempt to move her leg resulted in uncomfortable (but tantalizing) friction against the slumbering man's hard thigh. Her efforts to escape from under his arm proved equally treacherous. Finally, she managed to roll onto her back and attempted to calm her racing heartbeat.
The arm that draped across her stomach tensed, and her gaze darted to Charles' face to see if he was waking up. Her husband rolled forward slightly with a sleepy grumble, then paused when he encountered the resistance of her shoulder under his cheek. He pulled back slightly and gazed down at her.
"Morning," he greeted her, his voice still rough and a little confused from sleep.
"Morning," she whispered.