“This okay?” I whisper into her neck. “Too much?”
She shakes her head. “Skin contact, right?”
Her words are a little higher pitched.
“Mmhmm.” I stroke my fingers over her skin, softly back and forth until she relaxes, her body becoming soft and pliant around mine. The last of the evening light disappears, the fairy lights around the bed illuminating her in soft warmth.
Soft fingers grip my arm. “You’re not leaving?”
I swallow, remembering her face when I walked away from her in the nest. “No. I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.”
She doesn’t respond, her breathing deepening into sleep as I hold her close.
28
SIENNA
Irouse slowly, my eyes blinking sleepily at the bright light that makes it through the curtains. It takes me a minute of laying there, staring at the ceiling to work out why I feel so weird.
The pounding inside my head, the jagged pain in my stomach… it’s still there, but it’s barely noticeable, a background irritation.
Wow. Maybe Gray has magic hands.
Talking of… I suck back a ridiculous feeling of disappointment when I twist my head and don’t see him.
Of course he didn’t stay. He probably just meant the night.
My eyes skitter over my nightstand, before they jump back. A tiny, wooden bear has been put there, and my hand reaches out for it as my eyes widen. It’s perfectly crafted, one paw lifted in the air as though it’s about to come to life.
Fascinated despite myself, I turn it over in my hands before I reach for the note.
I haven’t left. I made a promise.
Making you breakfast. You need to eat.
The bear is for you.
Gray
PS. You look beautiful when you sleep.
Well. Slightly flustered, I press the back of my hands to my cheeks.
It’s just a note. Doesn’t mean anything.
But despite myself, I still fold it carefully, opening the drawer and placing it next to Tristan’s.
I’m still examining the bear when footsteps sound outside, and I hear a brief curse before the door pushes open. Gray carries in a tray, his hair in disarray as he tries to balance a glass of juice.
“This always looks better in the movies,” he mutters. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Shyly, I grab my green blanket, tucking it round me as Gray places the tray down in front of me. “Did you make this?”
His ears go red. “I tried, but I’m not the best cook. Emmett helped, though, so it should be edible.”
The French toast even has strawberries sliced across it, and I pause as Gray settles next to me. He leans in, grabbing a knife and fork and slicing up the toast before he holds it up.
I stare at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
