I woke with my cheek against Silas's chest.
For several seconds, I did not move.
His shirt was warm beneath my face. One of his arms rested around my waist, heavy enough to make its presence clear without holding me in place. The other lay along the back of the studio sofa.
He was awake.
Of course he was.
"How long?" I asked.
"Forty-three minutes."
"You counted."
"The clock did."
I lifted my head.
His expression was composed. His collar was not. The top button of his shirt had come undone, and a darkened patch near his shoulder marked where I had cried against him.
I looked away from it.
"You could have moved me."
"You told me to hold you."
"I did not specify a duration."
"You were asleep. Renegotiation seemed inefficient."
My mouth almost changed.
Silas noticed.
He did n
