CHAPTER 15
Gianna
I woketo weak sunlight filtering through unfamiliar curtains and Archie’s arms around me.
Sometime during the night, we’d migrated together. His chest pressed against my back, his face buried in my hair, one arm draped over my waist like he’d been holding me all night. The position should have felt claustrophobic, but instead it felt safe—like I’d finally found something I hadn’t known I was looking for.
I lay still, memorizing the moment before it ended.The weight of his arm, the sound of his breathing, the warmth of him seeping through my shirt. Outside, the rain had finally stopped, and morning birds were making their presence known.
His arm tightened around me, and his voice came out rough with sleep. “You awake?”
I turned carefully in his arms to face him. “Yeah.”
We were close enough that I could count his eyelashes, close enough to see the exact moment his gray eyes went darker as he looked at me. His hair was completely wrecked from sleep, roughened in a way that should have looked ridiculous but instead made him look younger, softer. More attractive.
“Morning,” he said, his voice still heavy with sleep.
“Morning.”
Neither of us moved. We just looked at each other in the pale morning light, and I was suddenly aware of how intimate this was. Waking up in his arms, our legs tangled together, his hand resting on my hip like it belonged there.
“I slept better than I have in years,” he said quietly. “Best night I’ve had in a long time.”
His thumb traced slow, lazy circles on my hip through my shirt. “Waking up with you makes everything else better.”
How was he always so smooth with words that made my heart feel like it might burst?
“I don’t want to move,” I admitted.
“Then don’t.” He pulled me closer, his hand sliding up my back. “We can stay right here.”
His eyes searched mine, something intense building between us. Then, I noticed the faint hint of color rising in his cheeks, barely visible but there. He looked almost shy about us like this, which was absurd for someone who’d kissed me senseless yesterday.
“Are you blushing?” I asked, delighted.
“Absolutely not. I don’t blush.”
“You’re definitely blushing.”
“You’re imagining things.” But the color deepened slightly, and he looked adorable trying to pretend otherwise. “I’m just warm. It’s a very warm room.”
“It’s freezing in here.”
“Then maybe you’re making me warm.” His hand slid into my hair. “Ever think of that?”
Before I could respond, he kissed me. When I responded by pressing closer, the kiss deepened into something more.
His hand tightened in my hair and I grabbed his shirt, needing him closer.
“We should stop,” he said, but his hand was still in my hair, his thumb tracing along my jaw.
“Probably.”
“Last night we agreed to slow down.”
“We did.”
“So we should stick to that.” But he kissed me again anyway, deeper this time. Hungrier “We should definitely stick to that.” He murmured but kissed me again like he couldn’t stop himself.
