He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the dim light. His gaze found mine, still hazy with sleep, and something in his expression softened. His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone.
"Gosh, you're so pretty," he groaned, and then he was kissing me.
It was a slow kiss, lazy, the kind of kiss that happened in the space between sleeping and waking. His lips were warm against mine. I laughed a little, kissing him back, letting myself be pulled into the warmth of him.
"I thought you were going to spend the night with your brother?" he said sleepily, his eyes already closing again. His fingers traced absent patterns on my back, a light touch that made me shiver.
"I was," I said, watching his face. "But I don't feel sleepy anymore."
