I swing my leg over him carefully, straddling his hips so I can see all of him.
So I can’t miss anything.
My palms settle against his chest.
Warm skin. Real heartbeat. Steady and strong beneath my hands.
My fingers trace a bruise along his ribs, then another beneath ink on his shoulder.
My throat burns.
Gideon almost took him from me.
His hands come up instinctively, settling at my waist.
Those green eyes lift to mine.
Forest-deep. Fierce. Alive.
But softer when they find me.
“I’m okay,” he murmurs.
I shake my head immediately, still searching his body like I can undo what I’m seeing.
“Are you in pain?” I whisper. “When did you leave the hospital?”
His mouth tilts—small, exhausted, devastatingly familiar.
Dimples.
That cracks something in me.
I lift my hand and touch one gently, like I need proof he’s still real.
“A little,” he admits, thumb brushing slow circles into my hip. “But I can breathe now that I’m with you.”
He sighs.
“I… left hours ago.”
My stomach drops.
“You came straight here?” I breathe.
His gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“Where else would I go?”
That undoes me.
My hands flatten over his chest, right above his heart.
It beats under my palms.
“You’re insane,” I whisper, broken.
“For you?” His voice softens. “Always.”
