The sound of children playing in the park behind my flat wakes me and I slowly open my eyes. The windows are still open from last night and the bed covers are scattered on the floor where we pushed them off, the night too hot for winter duvets, especially two of them.
Moving cautiously so that I don't wake you I reach for my phone to check the time, only 9am, far too early to get up. I roll back onto my side to look at you.
You're lying on your back, still asleep, your legs tangled in the white fleece throw we'd been using as a cover. You'd surprised me last night by turning up unexpectedly, letting yourself in with the spare key I'd told you I kept in the shed, fooling me into thinking my flatmate had returned before sneaking in and waking me up in the nicest way.
We'd eventually fallen asleep as the sun came up and my leg muscles are still protesting a little, unaccustomed as I am to late night exercise sessions. I smile, remembering and reach out a finger to trace the length of your arm, enjoying being able to stare at your nakedness without you accusing me of being 'weird'.
I sit up, careful not to wake you, and slide my fingers slowly down your chest, stopping at your waist where the fleece is wrapped tightly around your hips and slipping my fingers underneath ever so gently to untangle you until you're completely naked.