The first thing I feel is heat.
Not the sharp, consuming wildfire from last night — but something slower, steadier. Like embers being breathed on.
My body aches in the best possible way. Muscles I didn’t even know I had feel deliciously overused. My throat is raw from too much gasping, too much begging, too much—
I wince, cheeks flaming.
Yeah. That.
There’s a heavy arm banded around my waist, the weight of a forearm more like iron than flesh. Dominic. Even asleep, he holds me like someone might try to steal me if he lets go. His chest is pressed to my back, the steady rise and fall of his breathing brushing warm over my shoulder.
On the other side, I feel movement. A soft inhale. A sleepy shift. The brush of knuckles down my spine.
Dane.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice ruined in a way
