I wake up before the sun fully crests the horizon, the remnants of last night’s kiss still burning on my lips, on my skin, in my chest. My body is restless, a strange warmth lingering that isn’t entirely from the summer morning. The sheets feel like they’re pressing against me, suffocating, and I kick them aside, pushing myself upright. My fingers absently trace the curve of my collarbone, remembering the softness of his lips, the quiet intensity that made my pulse jump like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.
The room is quiet. Too quiet. And yet, I know I’m not alone. I can feel him before I see him—Asher, standing just beyond the doorway, leaning slightly against the frame, eyes shadowed but fixed on me. The faint light hits his profile, and even in the soft dawn, he looks dangerous
