The warmth of his arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the lantern light swaying softly above us, all blurred into something safe and hazy, and my body finally surrendered to exhaustion. As I drifted, I heard his voice again, quieter than before, meant for no one but the dark.
“And when you are,”he whispered, so softly I almost thought I imagined it…
“I suspect I will miss you, too.”
Iwoke to warmth.
Not the gentle, distant warmth of morning light or a blanket left too long in the sun, but something solid and encompassing. Something that pressed in close from behind and held me there as if I belonged exactly where I was. For a heartbeat, I didn’t question it. I floated in that half space between sleep and awareness, cocooned, my body heavy and boneless with lingering exhaustion.
Then I became aware of an arm.
Not just any arm. A thick, powerful weight draped over my waist, forearm locked firmly across my stomach, hand splayed possessively at my hip. My back was pressed flush to a broad chest, warm and hard, the steady rhythm of a heartbeat thudding against my spine.
I froze.
Every sense snapped violently awake at once.
Sheets. Bare skin. The unmistakable absence of fabric between me and the mattress.
Oh no.
Very carefully, very slowly, I tested the reality of it, moving just enough to confirm what my brain was already screaming at me. I was naked.
Completely.
No linen twisted around my legs, no shirt bunched beneath my hands. Just smooth sheets, warm skin, and the undeniable fact that I was very muchnot alone.
Panic flared immediately.
I stiffened, breath catching in my throat, and the reaction was instantaneous. The arm around me tightened, pulling me closer, fitting me more snugly against him as a low sound left his chest. A half groan, half sigh, the kind made by someone deep in sleep and unwilling to let go of what they were holding.
“Oh my god,”I mouthed silently, my heart hammering so hard I was convinced he had to feel it.
“Mm,” came a groggy voice behind me, thick with sleep and amusement. “I don’t know about the gods, but I have to wonder if that breathy sigh of yours means it was one of the best nights of your life,” he said, and I couldn’t tell whether or not he was teasing me or just being arrogantly smug.
I sucked in a sharp breath and wriggled violently, the sound that left me somewhere between a gasp and a strangled yelp.
The arm loosened at once.
I twisted, clutching the sheet to my chest as I rolled onto my side and then scrambled upright, tangling myself in fabric as I faced him fully for the first time.
Theron lay sprawled against the pillows, utterly at ease, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting lazily at his side. He was shirtless, broad chest and sculpted abdomen on full display. His skin caught the early-morning light filtering through the tent. Every line of him looked carved. Powerful and solid in a way that made my traitorous brain short-circuit for a split second.
Then my gaze dipped lower.
Pants.
I swear I thanked every god that had ever existed.
“Like what you see?” he asked, making me fill with shame.
“Oh gods,” I croaked, panic flooding back in full force as I dragged the sheet higher. “Please tell me we didn’t… That I didn’t…?”
Memories came rushing in like a tidal wave, disjointed and humiliating. His laughter in the forest. My hands…everywhere.Words spilling out of me with no filter, no dignity, no restraint. The way I had felt warm and reckless and far too honest.
He laughed and rolled onto his side to face me properly.
“No,” he said, with far too much amusement. “Nothing happened.”
