Isadora:
I woke to warmth.
Not the lazy kind that settles from thick blankets or the sluggish creep of morning sun—but the kind that hums low beneath your skin. That kind of heat that sinks into your bones and clings. That pulls you from sleep like a lover’s whisper, coaxing rather than demanding.
I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who it was.
Rhett.
His arms wrapped around me like they were made for it—firm, grounded, protective. One hand rested over my stomach, palm splayed like he was trying to memorize me by touch alone. His breath came steady, slow, like a lullaby pressed against the back of my neck.
And my body—traitor that it was—relaxed into him.
Not out of fear. Not out of survival.
But something else.
Something quieter. More terrifying.
I didn’t flinch at the sensati
