CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“You can trust me, you know.” Rachel snuggled into the crook of his arm as they lay before the open fire in his hovel.
He leaned against the bottom of the couch, one arm around Rachel, the other extended along the lounge—comfortable in only his boxers, athletic shirt, and thick white socks. His legs splayed across the floor toward the fireplace.
“I know.”
She fell asleep within his comforting embrace, at least for a couple of hours, for when next she opened her eyes it was dark both outside and in—except for the fireplace, which cracked and popped and sent shape-shifting specters of light around the room and across the ceiling. He was still beside her, awake but with eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in an easy, relaxed rhythm. The neckline of his athletic
