Serena Rosette
The warmth of Mason’s embrace cocooned me in the early morning light, and I stirred slightly, reluctant to leave the cocoon of his arms. His steady breaths against my skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against my back, were soothing—almost hypnotic. I blinked against the dim glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, my gaze drifting to the man beside me. Mason.
His face, usually so guarded, was relaxed in sleep. The strong line of his jaw, the perfectly sculpted cheekbones, the faint crease between his brows—I traced each feature with my eyes, memorizing him. His long lashes rested against his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted, soft. He looked breathtaking, vulnerable in a way I rarely saw.
My fingers itched to touch him, to trace the rough
