Chapter Thirty-Seven
At some point, we must’ve stopped, because I gradually recover some portion of my wits. Opening my eyes, I find myself cradled in Nero’s arms, my head pillowed on his shoulder and my leg draped possessively over his thighs. We’re on the edge of the meadow inside a small crater in the ground, with fallen trees in the forest next to us.
Wow.
Was that the thunderstorm or us?
“Are you okay?” Nero murmurs as he strokes my back.
“No,” I whisper in awe and scan my body for aches and pains—only to find the exact opposite. “I feel amazing.”
It’s an understatement.
I feel like I was rebuilt from the ground up using stronger, morphine-laced components.
“Good,” he says, and when I raise my head to glance at his face, I see a look of relief—and purely male satisfaction—stam
