Amara

Away from the city, it was easy to hear the chirping of birds rising with the sun. I knew I was bound to have a hangover but what I expected was to find a sleeping James beside me.

I ignored the banging in my head and focused instead on him. There was something angelic about the way his hair fell over his forehead. The brown is a contrast to his almost pale skin.

I pushed his hair back—then ran my finger across his brows, his nose bridge, and finally his lips. They sat ...