I wokeup warm in a way I hadn’t been in years.
Not radiator warm. Not blanket warm. This was skin-against-skin, breath-on-my-neck, arm-locked-around-my-waist warm—the kind that made your entire nervous system hum with the knowledge that you were held. That someone was here. That for once in your life, you hadn’t woken up reaching for something that wasn’t there.
Jack’s body was curved around mine, his chest against my back, and I could feel his heartbeat through my shoulder blade—slow, steady, the rhythm of a man deep in sleep. His hand was splayed across my stomach, possessive even unconscious, his fingers warm against my bare skin.
I lay there in the grey morning light and let myself have it. Just for a minute. Just this.
Then I turned in his arms, carefully, only to find his eyes already open.
Blue. Clear. Watching me with an intensity that should have felt invasive but instead felt like the safest place I’d ever been.
“What?” I whispered.
His gaze moved over me—unhurried, thorough, like he was memorizing something. His thumb swept across my hip beneath the sheets.
“You’re still here.”
Something in my chest pulled tight. “Did you think I’d leave?”
“I’ve had seven years of practice thinking that.”
The honesty of it landed between us, vulnerable and raw. I reached up and traced the line of his jaw, feeling stubble scratch against my palm.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “You’re stuck with me now. Pillow lines and all.”
His mouth curved then he leaned in and kissed my forehead—soft, lingering.
A sound drifted from somewhere beyond the bedroom. Cabinets opening. Water running.
I grabbed the sheet and yanked it up to my chin. “There is a person in your apartment.”
“Housekeeper. Saturdays.”
“Jack. I’m naked.”
“She’s very discreet.”
“I am very naked in your bed and there is a stranger making breakfast noises.”
The grin he gave me was obscene—lazy and warm and completely unrepentant, the grin of a man who knew exactly how naked I was because he was the reason for it.
“Would it help if I told you she’s been with my family since I was twelve and has seen me in significantly more embarrassing situations?”
“Like what?”
“I once got my head stuck in a stair railing trying to prove I could fit through it.”
I stared at him. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Jack.”
“In my defense, Michael bet me fifty dollars.”
“You were almost an adult.”
“The fire department had to come. Mrs. Willow brought them lemonade while they worked. She’s seen things, Pauline. Your naked presence won’t even register.”
