Phoenix:
I woke up warm.
His arm was draped across my waist, palm resting flat on my stomach, like he couldn’t bear the thought of not touching me—even in sleep. His breath moved steady and soft against the back of my neck. I didn’t move. Not for a while.
Because this? This was peace.
His body curved around mine like it was built to fit, like the fire in me had finally met its match in something solid and sure. Safe.
I twisted slowly in his hold, just enough to watch him.
God, he looked younger when he slept. Softer. His lips parted, lashes dark against cheekbones that cut like a blade when he was awake and plotting. But even like this, you could feel it—that mind of his. Always moving. Always spinning ideas out of smoke and spark.
And me?
I’d taken up residence in there. Deep. Per
