I woke up to sunlight slipping through thick burgundy curtains, the kind that tried and failed to keep the morning out. It took me a second to realize I wasn’t in my own bed. The sheets were too soft, the mattress too perfect, and the whole room smelled faintly of something rich and unfamiliar, like old books, incense, and him.
My body ached in all the right ways, the delicious kind of soreness that brought the night rushing back in flashes. The heat of his mouth on mine. My fingers tangled in his hair. The way we couldn’t stop touching each other, like the world would fall apart if we did.
Somehow, after everything that happened, we ended up here. In his bed. In his place. I didn’t even remember how we got here, but I remembered how it felt to have him wrapped around me, like I finally
