With great care, she turned in his arms until she could see his face. He looked so peaceful, sleeping, almost childlike. Waking, his expression was almost stern, like the arrogant purity of an angel, but in sleep he softened. The tips of his eyelashes lay golden against his cheeks, and his halo of curls seemed even more unruly. Lightly, she brushed an errant curl off his forehead.
And somehow, Isaac slept on through her jostling and shifting, snuggling down under the blankets in the early morning breeze, eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Mumbling nonsense as a memory appeared to play out in his mind, he settled at the touch of fingers ghosting across his flesh, his head unconsciously pushing up to seek further contact.
Her breath caught in her throat, heart pounding, as he pressed into her fingers, and she stroked her fingers through his hair. How could one person cause such turmoil in her heart? Slowly, so slowly, in case he should wake, she cupped her hand around his cheek, and pressed her lips to his.