Morning light filtered through the thin curtains like an unwelcome intruder. I woke slowly, cocooned in warmth and the steady rhythm of Caleb’s heartbeat beneath my ear. His arm was banded around my waist, careful even in sleep, palm resting protectively just below my bruised ribs. The other hand cradled the back of my head, fingers tangled loosely in my hair. Our legs were tangled, his thigh pressed between mine, and I could feel the heavy, morning-hard length of him against my hip through his sweatpants.
For one perfect, suspended moment, everything felt right. No team. No Kane. No Coach’s calculations. Just us.
Then reality crept in.
Caleb stirred, a low rumble vibrating through his chest as awareness returned. His arms tightened around me for a heartbeat — instinctive, possessive —
