Because I’m comfortable.
Because I’m warm.
Because there’s a heavy arm draped over my waist and a solid wall of man at my back and for the first time in a long time, I feel good.
More than that.
I feel great.
Safe.
Wanted.
Held.
I breathe in slowly.
Honey and spice, something darker—something that can only be him.
Gods.
Last night was—I close my eyes for a second, heat creeping up my neck as flashes of it hit me.
The way he touched me.
Wrecked me, really.
The way he looked at me.
Like I mattered.
Like I was his.
My phone buzzes again.
Longer this time.
Insistent.
Annoying.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Ugh,” I mutter, carefully slipping out from under his arm.
He shifts, a low rumble in his chest like he feels the loss even in his sleep.
My heart does a stupid little flip.
Nope.
Not thinking about that right now.
I grab my phone and pad quietly out of the room, closing the door behind me before checking the screen.
And then—everything inside me goes cold.
Splashed across my screen in bright bold text are my notifications.
