Because part of me wants it. A big part.
I swallow, throat tight, and stare at the empty space beside him like it's a cliff edge.
My omega instincts whisper,warmth. safe. please.
My mind snaps back,you thought that before.
The seconds stretch out until they feel endless.
Then I move.
Only an inch at first.
I slide closer, slow enough that I can stop if I panic. My body remains tense, muscles ready to spring away. I keep my hands clenched tightly in my lap.
Jasper stays completely still.
No tightening. No claiming. No adjustment to pull me closer. Just presence.
I inch closer again.
My shoulder brushes his side lightly, and the contact sends a ripple through me—heat, awareness, a deep exhale. His warmth is immediate, steady.
I hesitate one last time.
Then, carefully, I tuck myself against his side.
Not fully. Not collapsed into him. Just leaning, enough that I can feel him anchoring me. Enough that the cold in my bones starts to ease.
Jasper's arm doesn't move. He doesn't wrap me up or tighten around me. He simply stays exactly as he is.
My body adjusts in small increments—my shoulder relaxing, my spine unclenching, my breath smoothing out.
The warmth envelops me, slow and sure.
And my omega instincts—quiet and suppressed most of the time—surface anyway, humming softly with relief. Not frantic. Not needy.
Just soothed.
For a brief moment, my head feels light.
Normal.
I stare at the screen, but I don't see it. All I can feel is Jasper's steady presence, the lack of pressure, the absence of demand.
He doesn't ask for anything.
He doesn't take.
He doesn't test how much I'll give.
He just sits there, letting me borrow warmth without making it transactional.
My eyelids grow heavy. My breathing deepens.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, my body believes—just for a moment—that comfort might not be a lie.
***
