35
Haven
I woke to Wick stretching and mumbling out a groan under me.
Burrowing deeper into his chest, I yawned and said, “Morning,” before I lifted my face to look up at him.
His facial hair looked thicker and more rugged this morning, and his eyes were rimmed in red, telling me just how tired he was.
“Good morning,” he offered, blinking sleepily and probably wondering how I’d ended up on top of him. Again.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I added. “After getting kicked I-don’t-know-how-many times down there in the dogpile, I crawled up here where it was safer.”
“It’s fine,” he answered, cupping my hair affectionately in his hand even as he lifted his face to glance around the living room and orient himself. When he found the pile of blankets and pillows on the floor next to us empty, he f
