Alina's lashes fluttered as she whispered, "Good morning," her voice soft and warm in the quiet room.
Dante stepped toward her without hesitation, his tall frame casting a gentle shadow over the bed. She looked up at him, already flustered, and her breath caught when he leaned down. His hand brushed lightly through her hair, and he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead, soft enough to melt her bones and warm enough to send her heartbeat stumbling in her chest.
"Good morning," he murmured back, and the way his voice wrapped around her without even saying her name made her toes curl.
Lucien crawled toward him and wrapped his tiny arms around Dante's waist. "Good morning, Dad," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.
Dante chuckled, a deep and gentle sound, then bent to kiss Lucien's cheek. "Good morning, sweetheart."
