She ran her fingers feather-light along the tattoos on his arms.

He snorted softly, and turned in his sleep.

She tilted her head to study the unusually relaxed features.

His eyelashes were fluttering. What dream was he having?

She leaned down, let her breath ghost over his face, her eyes taking in every detail.

The nick above his left brow; the small scar fading along the hairline, the slight depression along the bridge of his straight, elegant nose, the dip in the middle of his lower lip.

He must have felt something; grunting, he shifted a little closer to her.

She pulled errant tendrils of red from his damp face, and watched her best friend and lover slumber.