Silas
The light woke me.
Faint, filtered, the kind that comes through snow and cloud and doesn’t quite belong to morning yet.
For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was. Just warmth. A pulse against my arm. The soft, steady weight of another body pressed close.
Then I remembered.
The couch. The fire.
Her.
Some time in the night, the distance between us had vanished. I vaguely remembered the draw of the fire, the blankets,her.
The couch hadn’t been enough, or maybe I’d shifted in my sleep, or maybe she had… either way, the result was the same.
She was here now.
Tucked against my chest like at one time — she’d been made to fit there.
Her hair smelled faintly of citrus, of something fresh and earthy. One of her hands had slipped under the blanket and come to rest against my ribs, fingers curled in like she was afraid of being caught.
I should’ve moved.
This wasn’t…
It wasn’t proper. Itcertainlywasn’t going to do anything for me in terms of my career.
I didn’t evenknowthis girl, this woman who was crashing my solace.
But… I stayed. Breathing slow. Careful. Trying not to wake her, trying not tofeel.Outside, the wind had gone still. The quiet felt thick enough to drown in. Her breath ghosted against my throat, and something deep in my chest ached in a way I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time.
It wasn’t desire, not exactly. It was worse.
It was the sound of her heartbeat syncing with mine, of warmth finding me when I’d long since stopped expecting it.
Her lashes fluttered once. She didn’t wake, but her hand twitched, brushing my side. The smallest touch, accidental or not, and it burned anyway.
I shut my eyes.
Counted the seconds.
One. Two. Three.
Don’t make this something it isn’t.
The fire cracked softly, almost as if it were laughing.
Fuck.
I should have moved. I told myself that again, half-awake, the words dull as prayer.
Move. Get up. Put distance between you.
But the warmth was a trap. It had soaked into the fabric, into my bones, into the part of me that had forgotten what it was to be still beside another person.
I eased my arm from under her hand, slow enough not to wake her, and she made a small sound — barely there, but enough to stop me.
