Willow’s POV
The early morning darkness still shrouded the room as I awoke, the world outside only hinting at the dawn to come. Brax lay beside me, his face softened by sleep, free from the burdens that typically etched his features. Last night, a surreal montage of emotions and sensations played in my mind. I had never imagined I'd willingly give myself to someone, not after everything that had been done to me by cruel men. But with Brax, it had been different—intoxicating, and it made me feel alive.
Carefully, I slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb him. I reached for one of his shirts, its fabric worn-in and comforting. As I buttoned it up, my gaze lingered on him once more: the vulnerable rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breath. There was a depth of pain hidd
