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"Noco, baby," I say softly, laughing and reaching out to stroke his cheek. "We have to get up! There's a whole day waiting for us. And pancakes. And coffee. And little raspberry pastries."

He groans, slipping a hand down my back so that it settles at the dip of my spine, pulling me tight against him so that our bellies are flush. A warm rush pulses through me as I loop my leg over his, because I love that - love how he wants every inch of his skin pressed to mine, just as I want it too.

"No," he mutters, stubborn, shaking his head. But then he pauses, considering. "Well, the raspberry pastries..we can have those. But someone can bring them here, and slide them under the door, and then we'll eat them in bed."

"Okay, baby," I whisper, pleased, still stroking his hair and his face. "Whatever you want."

A little smile grows on his lips when I say that, and his eyes open, moving slowly over my face. "I like this," he murmurs, nodding. "Waking up with you here, in my bed. We should do this...every day."

that I apparently sleep

like that," he answers, his voice all growly

your ribcage

kiss to my cheek even as I laugh. "Plus, I liked feeling you there, when I would wake up. The weight of

I ask, my voice wandering

Jackson replies, easy, like it's a fact. "It's only when I have you here, warm

close as I can. Jackson growls again, liking it, tuming again and taking me with him so that we get all tangled up in the sheets, so that I'm again laying on his chest and looking down

deserve you, Jacks," I say on a happy sigh, relaxing against him as I gaze down into his face. "No one does. You're too

raising a hand to cup my cheek. "When we're

"Jackson!" I protest, smacking him

as a fox. And I don't even know what

closet, which I'm sure my mom has already filled with clothes. "Minor details, baby," I whisper, turning back to smile down into his face.

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