But in here, by this fire, with her sleeping peacefully beside me, the world feels smaller. More manageable.
Maybe even... salvageable?
I close my eyes and let her steady breathing lull me back to sleep.
Tomorrow we’ll go back to our corners. Back to the antagonism and the careful distance.
But tonight, on Christmas morning in the dark hours before dawn, I let myself have this.
This closeness.
This warmth.
This dangerous, impossible thing that I should be smart enough to stop but can’t seem to resist.
9
Sorrel
Iwake up warm.
As in, like,properlywarm.
You know, the kind of warm that makes you want to burrow deeper and never leave.
Which is weird because I went to sleep in front of the fireplace, wrapped in my sleeping bag like a sad burrito, maintaining a carefully calculated distance from Gregory “Villionaire” Falk. As in, approximately seventeen feet away from said Villionaire.
Except now I’m definitely not seventeen feet away from anything.
I’m pressed against something solid that smells like woodsmoke and expensive cologne and clean male sweat. Something with a heartbeat that’s currently thumping steadily against my cheek.
Oh no.
No no no.
My face is buried in Gregory’s neck. His arm is wrapped around my waist, heavy and possessive. Our legs are tangled together like we’re contestants in some kind of competitivecuddling championship. And I’m pretty sure that’s his thumb resting against the bare skin where my borrowed hoodie has ridden up.
All good.
You’re just accidentally spooning with the man who poisoned your grandmother’s village.
I should move. Should extract myself immediately and pretend this never happened. Should restore the careful distance we’ve been maintaining since I discovered who he is.
But I don’t.
And right then he wakes up. I know because I hear the change in his breathing. Not to mention the way his whole body suddenly tenses as he realizes our position.
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us speaks.
We just lie there in this bubble of accidental intimacy, both pretending to still be asleep. Meanwhile I’m hyper-aware of every single point of contact. His chest against my breasts. His thigh between mine. The way my hand is somehow resting on his ribs, feeling them expand with each breath.
Move!
Just move.
This is not helping the situation...
