I turned my back to him, pulling the blanket tightly around me. But his presence, his warmth, was impossible to ignore.
And then he moved.
His arm slid around my waist, pulling me toward him.
I stiffened, every muscle in my body locking up as his strong arm wrapped around me possessively.
“Alex,” I whispered, half in protest.
He didn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightened, his breath warm against my neck. “You don’t have to act like you hate me,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough.
His words made my heart pound. I hated how my body reacted. I hated how my chest ached, caught between wanting to lean into him and wanting to pull away.
“Let go,” I said quietly, though my voice was far from steady.
But he didn’t. His hand rested on my stomach, right above my unborn pups,
