She wasn’t sure when she’d started memorizing the details of him, but she knew them all now: the faint scar near his left elbow, the pattern of the dark hair on his chest, the way his lashes fanned against his cheek when he drifted close to sleep.The way he exhaled—soft and content—right after he’d pulled her against him. Like she belonged nowhere else.
Her heart squeezed.
Luke made a small, sleepy sound, something between a sigh and a groan, and tightened his hold on her. His nose brushed her collarbone. His thumb traced a slow, lazy path along her ribs.
“Hmm,” he muttered, voice gravelly with fading adrenaline, “you’re warm.”
Grace smiled. “Is that a complaint?”
“It’s not.” He pressed closer, his leg sliding deeper between hers. “It’s perfect.”
Perfect. Her pulse tripped over itself. He thought she wasperfect.
She shouldn’t read into things like that. She knew that.
But—
Luke wasn’t the kind of man who said things he didn’t mean.
Right now, in the soft dark, in the sweet afterglow, she let herself believe in the fantasy.
She shifted to face him, and he lifted his head just enough to look at her—eyes heavy, mouth curved in a satisfied smile. He looked younger like this. Softer.
“Hi,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles down her cheek.
Grace smiled at him. “Hi.”
He kissed her, slow and lazy, a kiss that wasn’t urgent or demanding like earlier, just warm and sweet andLuke. The kind of kiss that whispered without saying a word.
I’m here.
I want this.
I want you.
This was the third time he'd been here this month. She knew the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he reached for her in the dark. The way his body remembered hers even when he was half-asleep.
And she knew his routine—knew he'd lie here for a little bit longer, knew he’d kiss her temple before he left, knew he'd text her next time he wanted to see her.
She liked being here with him. He smelled like fresh sweat and the faint spice of his cologne, and it felt safe—dangerously safe.
She just wished she could freeze this moment.
Keep him like this.
Keepthemlike this.
Because in the quiet glow of her bedroom, wrapped up in him, it was so easy—too easy—to believe she wasn’t just a secret hidden in the dark.
So easy to believe this was something real.
She wasn’tsure how long she had dozed off for. Luke’s arm tightened around her just a little as he eased onto his back. She shifted with him automatically, propping herself up on an elbow.
Grace brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. Luke’s mouth curved, slow and lazy. His eyes were half-lidded and sleepy in a way that made a warm flutter roll through her chest. She was the only one who ever saw him like this.
“You’re still a little flushed,” he murmured, voice a delicious scrape across her already-sensitive nerves. “I like that.”
Grace rolled her eyes because if she didn’t, she’d melt straight through the mattress. “I’m lying next to a furnace. What did you expect?”
