Grace
I don’t know how many hours I actually slept last night.
If it was any at all.
It felt like every time I managed to close my eyes, the reality of him drifted back into my mind—Dawson, stretched out on the floor at the foot of my bed like some human guard dog. Quiet. Still. And impossible to ignore.
It should not be legal for a man to take up that much space while doing absolutely nothing.
I must have rolled over a dozen times. Hugged the pillow. Kicked off the blankets. Put them back on. But nothing helped. Because every time I finally started to drift, some part of me remembered:
There is a very large, very warm, very male Marine sleeping just three feet from you.
And that thought?
Well. My whole nervous system treated it like an alarm bell.
Sometime in the early morning ho
