Viv:
I woke up to the soft, slow rise and fall of Knox’s hard chest.
My cheek was pressed against his bare skin, the smell of him already sinking into my lungs. Smoke and leather and something woodsy—clean but wild. I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve scrambled back and locked up every open nerve he somehow cracked wide.
But I didn’t move.
Not yet.
The apartment was still dark, the blinds drawn, the clock flashing some stupid hour like it meant something. It didn’t. Time felt like it had stopped in this little pocket of peace, and I wasn’t ready to let it restart.
He stayed. And he didn’t try anything.
That—more than anything—messed me up.
My whole life, I’d been taught to expect the take. Guys wanted things. Even the “nice ones” always expected something at the end of the night. A
