Part of that could be exhaustion, but I’ve fallen asleep crying more times than I care to admit, and I’ve never woken up feeling like this.
With effort, I wiggle my fingers and toes.
My limbs are heavy, muscles exhausted. And, without prompting, I picture myself with my arms and legs wrapped around Nero’s solid body.
Nero.
I mouth his name. Not daring to say it out loud again, not just yet.
I bend one knee, putting my foot flat on the bed, and the motion tugs at my stomach muscles. Apparently, I need to try doing a few crunches, since holding my legs around his hips was more of a core workout than I’m used to.
Or I could just start having s*x on a regular basis. That’s an exercise I might actually do.
Except that would require seeing Nero again. And as much as I want to, I’m not sur
