The silence of the bedroom was broken only by the rhythm of quiet breathing.
Rodrigo shifted, a murmur catching in his throat as sleep pulled away. A second later, his eyes opened. He didn't move. He lay still, staring up at the ceiling as his senses oriented themselves. The room was bathed in the pale silver of dawn, the light filtering through the white curtains and washing the walls in a soft glow. For one fleeting moment, his mind was a clean slate.
Then, the memories of the night before crashed into him.
His gaze dropped. He froze.
Strands of blonde hair lay scattered across his chest, stark against his skin. Nina's body rested half on top of his. Her head was tucked beneath his chin, one arm draped loosely across his waist. Sometime during the night, the duvet had slipped down to their hips, leaving enough skin exposed for the warmth of her body to press directly into his.
It was a tangible reminder: none of it had been a dream.
