Eyes squeezed shut, she focuses on the feel of his arms around her and his hand in her hair.

It's nothing, just like Dave said last night.

When the sandpaper burn lessens behind her eyes, she lifts her head and almost manages a smile. Her eyes trace his features -- the planes of his face, the curve of his lips, the stubble along his jaw -- and she tilts her head to give him a grateful kiss.

He tastes like sugar, and she's thankful she brushed her teeth as soon as she got up to spare him from morning breath.