She sighs, soft and content, and nestles closer.
My arm goes around her before I can stop it.
She falls asleep halfway through the movie, face tucked against my neck, one hand curled over my heart.
I sit there for a long time, staring at the screen without seeing it.
Then I carry her to bed.
Again.
This time, when I lay her down, she murmurs something sleepy, reaches for me.
“Aaron…”
I freeze.
She tugs at my shirt. “Stay.”
My heart slams.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Please.” Her voice is soft, vulnerable, half-asleep. “Stay and hold me.”
I close my eyes.
Then I give in.
I kick off my boots, slide in beside her, and pull her against my chest.
She sighs, happy and content, and burrows closer, face pressed to my throat, hand splaying over my heart.
I wrap my arm around her waist, hand resting on the small of her back.
We fall asleep like that.
When morning comes, I wake first.
She’s still curled against me, one leg thrown over mine, hand over my heart, face tucked into my neck. Her breathing is soft, steady. My arm is around her waist, fingers splayed across her back under the T-shirt, skin to skin.
I don’t move. I just let myself feel her warmth, her heartbeat against mine, and the way she fits like she was made for this spot.
She stirs. Her eyes flutter open, and she sees me. A smile, sweet and unguarded, flashes across her face.
“Morning,” she whispers.
“Morning.”
She doesn’t move away.
Neither do I.
We lie there, tangled, hearts beating in time.
I brush a curl off her forehead.
“You’re in my bed,” I say.
