This is the only day of the week you get to sleep in. God, I wish it weren't. You're bundled in what I swear must be at least a dozen blankets so that all I can see of you is one single ear poking out of your cocoon.
One ear, that's all. But it's enough. I'm lying in bed next to you, trying to wrangle enough incentive to actually get up and on with the day and all I want to do is trace every contour of that beautiful little ear with the tip of my tongue. I want to wrap my lips around your earlobe and trap it ever so gently between my teeth. While I tug at it possessively and growl I want to whisper to you all the dirty, wonderful things that I wish we were doing right now.
But even more, I want you to be able to enjoy your one and only day to sleep in, and if I carry on any more about what I'd rather be doing right now, I'll never leave you alone. So I propose a compromise. When you wake up and get this, feel free to call my cell. I'll leave the cordless receiver here by the note, on the bedside table. If, after you've called, I come back to find you still in bed, I'll wake you up in all sorts of naughty, wonderful ways—starting with that wickedly tempting ear.