"Thanks!" I kiss his cheek and dart under his arm, resting my head on his chest.
He slides down, his hand drapes over my hip, and I prop my leg over his.
"This is nice, right?" I press.
"Yeah, Bluebird."
Another rush hits me, and my face hurts from my smile. I inhale his scent, letting it fill my lungs until I can't take in any more. My shoulders ease an inch at a time.
The tension hums between us, quiet and alive, carried in the way his arm stays firm around me and the way my body fits perfectly against his.
I shift, testing the space, and his hold adjusts immediately, tighter at my waist, anchoring me. Flutters hit my core, and a soft whimper slips from my throat before I can stop it.
His mouth hovers near my ear. "Sleep."
I let out a breath that turns into a weak laugh. "Bossy."
His chest lifts under me, a low sound rumbling through it. His grip stays steady, and time blurs.
The drawer across the room with my knife and pins stays closed. My thoughts slowly untangle. The guilt over hurting myselflingers, sharp but contained, but it's held in place by the weight of his arm and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
My eyelids grow heavy. I fight it for a moment, then let my body sink fully into his.
His arm tightens once more, claiming the space around me for the night.
Sleep takes me, wrapped in his hold, suspended between restraint and want. Then morning arrives too fast, and a murmur intrudes on my sleep. "Wake up, Blue."
Consciousness returns in soft waves. Warmth presses along my back, solid and unmistakable, and my body registers it before my mind catches up. An arm locks around my waist, heavy and protective. Breath brushes the back of my neck, slow and controlled, sending a ripple through me that tightens low in my stomach. My toes curl beneath the covers as awareness sharpens, and then I realize exactly who's behind me.
Red.
His body molds to mine, broad chest spanning my back, his thigh fitted snug between mine. Something thick and unignorable presses against me, hard and hot, fitting perfectly into the curve of my ass. My pulse stutters as I inhale, catching his scent, clean and masculine and familiar enough now to make my chest ache.
His mouth shifts against my skin, lips grazing the sensitive line beneath my ear before settling at the base of my neck. Teeth scrape lightly, not biting, just enough to draw a sharp inhale from me.
"Morning, Bluebird," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and restraint.
My fingers tighten on the pillow. "You're awake."
A quiet sound vibrates behind me, low and guttural, rolling through his chest and straight into my spine. His arm tightens briefly, hand splayed over my stomach, thumb brushing just above the waistband of my panties. The pressure behind me doesn't ease, and the awareness of it sends heat flooding between my thighs.
"I need to get up," he says, words steady even as his body betrays him. "I have to get ready for work."
"You are up," I blurt out, and shift my ass against his erection.
His entire body turns rigid, heart thumping against my back. He groans, asserting, "Same rules apply as last night. Don't make me regret staying."
Disappointment flares sharp and fast, but I swallow it down, forcing my breathing to stay even. I shift slightly again, just to give him another opportunity to give in, and his breath catches for half a second before smoothing out again. "I mean it. Are you feeling okay this morning?"
I tilt my head just enough that my cheek brushes his jaw. "Yes. You did exactly what you came here to do. Thank you."
His lips graze against my skin. "You feel better?"
I nod. "Yes. Thanks to you. I slept and didn't continue to spiral. It's all because you stayed."
His hand slides once more over my stomach, then retreats. His arm around me loosens, careful, as if he's dismantlingsomething fragile instead of moving away from me. The mattress shifts as he sits up, and the loss of his heat leaves me instantly aware of the space he occupied.
I roll onto my back, taking every inch of him in for a final time. Morning light spills through the edges of the curtains, catching the sharp lines of his shoulders and the controlled set of his jaw. His boxers sit low on his hips, outlining everything I'm dying for him to reveal to me. His gaze flicks to mine, dark and searching, then drops away. He quietly praises, "You did good, Bluebird. You kept our boundary."
