Shay:
The last two weeks with Saint had been… effortless. It scared me how easy it was to be with him, how natural it felt waking up tangled in his arms every morning, how safe I felt knowing he was always watching out for me.
Saint wasn’t just protective—he *cherished* me. It was in the little things. The way he made sure my coffee was just how I liked it before I even got out of bed. How he’d wrap me in his arms and sway us slightly when he pulled me close, like he just *needed* me near. How he absentmindedly traced circles on my skin when we sat on the couch, watching whatever show I picked, even if I knew damn well he couldn’t care less about it.
Mornings were slow and sweet. I’d wake up to the scent of coffee and something cooking in the kitchen—sometimes burnt, sometimes perfect
