Warmth.
That’s the first thing I register. A comforting weight pressed against my back, an arm slung possessively around my waist.
I’m nestled against Lior, his steady breathing a soft rhythm against my hair. His scent, familiar and comforting now, fills my senses.
We’re back in his cabin, the familiar scent of pine and woodsmoke a stark contrast to the lingering aroma of the harvest celebration.
My eyelids flutter open, the soft morning light filtering through the cabin window painting the room in gentle hues.
I close them again, a wave of fuzzy memories washing over me. Last night… it’s a bit of a blur. Laughter, the warmth of cider, the dizzying swirl of the dance floor.
I must have had a little too much to drink. My cheeks heat with a touch of embarrassment.
Lior shifts beh
