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Emily Monroe
I woke up with something hard pressed against my behind. Stiles heavy arm was draped over my waist, keeping me firmly in place, while we spooned together on the bed in my own room.
He had sneaked out of his room in the middle of the night and though I had protested about him spending the night in mine, we ended up getting tangled in the sheets.
At some point, I had masked my screams with a blanket and pillows, but yet ny throat still felt sore from all the screaming I had done last night.
I still screamed in protest when I tried to get up from under Stiles’s arm.
He appeared to be a heavy sleeper, unbothered by my movements, and I took advantage of this opportunity to study his features. His hair fanned out across the pillow, and he looked so peaceful that I immedia
