“Did you come back from brushing your teeth?” he asks as she crawls back into bed, evidently not quiet enough not to wake him.
“Of course,” she answers. It’s still too early in their relationship for him to see—or smell, rather—so much of her in the mornings.
“Me too,” he says, grinning. “I did that ten minutes ago.”
He pulls her face towards his, his thumb dragging across her cheek and his fingers settling on the nape of her neck, and into a kiss.
A typical good morning kiss, always tingling with the anticipation of a blissful awakening.
“Mmmm. You taste like me,” she says. Like her minty toothpaste and bitter mouthwash.
“Oh, I plan to,” he promises as his lips kiss down her body.