I wake up the next morning, feeling warm and wrapped up. The blanket must have cocooned around me in the night.
After I roll over I understand that I'm not wrapped in a blanket, blankets don't breathe. Blankets don't have arms and hands. Blankets most certainly don't have pecks.
Oh dear god.
I slide away as quickly and carefully as I can, climbing off the bed to look at Alex as he lays there, his arm still draped over my spot. He moves ever so slightly, his hand wrapping around the blanket and pulling it closer, his face digs into the pillow where my head was. He was holding me, I was in bed being held by Alex Monroe!
He stirs again, making me jump. He lays on his back and pushes the blankets off his bare chest. How he's still asleep is a mystery to me, how he let us fall asleep like t
