Every trace of her was removed from that guest room and relocated here.
Where she belongs.
Where she'll stay.
I study her face in the growing light.
The dark lashes against her cheeks.
The slight parting of her lips.
The way her brow furrows slightly even in sleep, like she's troubled by her dreams.
Is she dreaming about last night?
About my hands on her body?
About the way I made her come?
Or is she dreaming about the Sanctuary?
About Elder Jacob?
About all the things she ran from?
She stirs against me, disturbing my thoughts.
A soft sound escapes her throat—not quite a moan, not quite a whimper.
Something in between that makes my cock twitch with interest despite having had her just hours ago.
I wonder if she's dreaming about pleasure now.
If her subconscious is replaying the sensations.
If her body is remembering how it felt to surrender completely, to let go of control and just feel.
Her eyes flutter open slowly, the process gradual.
Confusion first—where am I, why am I warm, why does everything feel different.
Then awareness dawning as she registers my body next to hers, my arm around her waist.
Then something that looks almost like resignation settling over her features.
Like she's accepting a truth she can't change.
"Good morning," I say quietly, keeping my voice low and calm. Non-threatening despite what we both know I'm capable of.
She tenses immediately.
Every muscle is rigid against me.
She tries to pull away, to put distance between us.
I tighten my arm around her waist, preventing her escape. "Don't."
"I need to?—"
