I wake up early, sunlight spilling soft and golden through the huge windows, and this time when I roll over, Ant is still there. Still in bed beside me. He’s on his front, arms tucked under the pillow, sheets kicked down just enough to bare the long, toned line of his back, the perfect curve of his ass. My breath catches. He’s beautiful in the morning light—raw, real, unguarded.

“I know you’re watching me,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.