Molly
Sunlight spills across my face, warm and golden, dragging me slowly out of sleep. I stretch instinctively and freeze.
There’s warmth wrapped around me. Solid and protective.
I blink my eyes open.
Charles is staring at me.
Not just staring. He’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery. Like I’m the prize. His fingers are lazily tracing circles on my waist, his eyes soft, almost awed.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and something dangerously satisfied.
I squint at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because,” he says simply, brushing a strand of hair off my face, “you’re mine.”
My stomach flips.
There’s something different in the air. I feel it. A quiet hum under my skin. A warmth that isn’t just physical. It’s deeper and stronger. Like a thread ha
