19 OLIVIAI squint at the clock on my nightstand and suppress a groan. Three in the morning and I’m still wide awake.
The sheets rustle behind me. “Can’t sleep?” Noah asks. His voice is clear, not groggy at all. Evidently I’m not the only one with insomnia.
Sighing, I shake my head.
“Come here,” he says gently.
I roll over to look at him. Noah is lying on his side, facing me. He holds out his top arm. I hesitate for a moment; I’m still getting used to casual contact with him. But soon I wriggle into his warm embrace, pillowing my head on his bicep.
He pulls me even closer with an arm around my shoulders. I inhale his masculine scent, no less pleasant and exciting for how familiar it’s become, and try not to notice how perfectly I fit nestled in against his side.
“How do you feel?” he
