My head whips to the side, finding him already watching me. My stomach roils and electricity prickles down my spine.
“Come here,” he murmurs, soft and lazy. When I don’t respond, his arm wraps around my back and he pulls me down.
“Legend.”
“Mmm?” he asks, his tone sleepy.
“This friends with benefits thing doesn’t include cuddling.”
His chest vibrates when he chuckles, before his hand slips over my lower back and cups my ass. “Wasn’t thinking about cuddling.”
“Necrophilia isn’t really my thing…” I muse, giving in and resting my head against his chest. Muscles tighten beneath my cheek before finally relaxing.
His breathing evens out first—deep, steady pulls that make his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek. The arm around me goes slack, heavy with sudden sleep, fingers still curved possessively over my hip.
Legend’s asleep.
Actually fucking asleep.
I should move. Should shove him off and portal myself back—or try to, anyway, since apparently I’m shit at that particular skill. But his heartbeat thuds against my ear, strong and rhythmic, and something in my chest unclenches at the sound.
Proof he’s alive. Proof he’s here.
Proof he didn’t actually mean those words in the water.
My jaw clenches. I’m not some clingy female who needs reassurance. I don’tcarewhat Legend Deveraux thinks of me. Don’t care if he finds me worthless or convenient or—
His arm tightens reflexively, pulling me closer even in sleep.
The gesture does something terrible to my insides. Makes them twist and ache in ways that are foreign to me but slowly, frustratingly, becoming more and more obvious. More and more…welcome.
Because I do care what he thinks and how he sees me and if you ask me on a good day, I might even say I want to stay here. Flip the bird to Creed Devereaux and tell him thanks for the idea, but the helping hand back to the island won’t be necessary.
But that would be wild, wouldn’t it? If I just…stayed?
His warm breath tickles my exposed skin and a frown pulls at my brows.
“Stupid Royal,” I mutter against his shirt.
He doesn’t respond. Just keeps breathing, keeps holding me like I’m something precious instead of the volatile disastereveryone knows I am.
My fingers curl into his shirt without permission.
Fine. Five minutes. Then I’m waking him. Clearly, he needs sleep.
His breathing stutters, then deepens again.
I close my eyes.
Just five minutes.
Chapter Seventeen
Legend
I hit the floor on a half-bent knee and bite back the sway.
Portals are clean when I’m sharp. Surgical. Now they punch like a cheap uppercut and leave the room bending at the edges, walls rolling before they snap into place.
