Aurora could not stop thinking about his hand over hers.
She had gone back to bed that night after they finished their tea and parted ways at the bottom of the staircase with nothing more than a quiet goodnight. Damian had gone to his study. She had gone to her room. Everything was calm and orderly and completely normal on the surface.
But his hand over hers had not been normal.
It had been warm and deliberate and it had stayed there longer than an accident. Longer than comfort. It had stayed there the way something stays when a person knows they should move but simply cannot make themselves do it. She knew that feeling well. She had been living inside that feeling for weeks.
She lay in bed and pressed her palm flat against the mattress and thought about the weight of it.
In the morni
