I came to it slowly, drifting out of sleep as I felt Matt’s hand moving in slow, steady strokes up and down my back. It wasn’t constant—more like rhythmic waves, his fingers sometimes pausing, then continuing again—but it was calming in a way that settled me deeper into him. The scent of his cologne, that familiar mix of cedarwood and something subtly sweet, seeped into my senses, warming me from the inside out. His skin, warm and solid beneath my hands, radiated comfort. The feel of his stomach against my palms—firm, but still soft enough to be inviting—only reinforced what I already knew: Matt was the perfect pillow. Supportive and strong, yet soft and soothing all at once.
“How long have I been out?” I asked, my voice scratchy and hoarse with sleep, barely louder than a whisper.
“I’m
