It was a long and exhausting night. Christabel doesn’t know how she got back home. She vaguely remembers leaning on Maxson in the car. Then a comfortable woody covered her as her cheek was stuck on a hard, warm chest. Then - then -
Her eyes fluttered open immediately. Sunlight bathed in the room, filling it with warmth. The window in front of her was ceiling to floor, similar to the one in her room but… this isn’t her room.
There is a warm arm, heavy on her waist. The familiar scent of cedarwood and citrus surrounded her. She froze, all sleepiness disappeared. As slow as a computer from the 1990s trying to load a website, she lifted the blanket in front of her slowly. True enough, Maxson’s arm was wrapped around her, thick like a python. Her heart thumped hard and fast against her ribs.
