Eli
I wake to the low creak of wood and the heavy scent of him.
Ronan is slouched in the chair beside the couch, head tipped back, eyes closed. Boots still on. Shoulders tense even in sleep. He looks like he’s been sitting there for hours.
Like he’s been guarding me.
I should roll over and pretend I didn’t notice. Not give in to the temptation of touching him.
But thinking is where I talk myself out of things I want. So I move before I can ruin it.
The blanket slips off as I slide from the couch, bare legs prickling in the cool air. His shirt brushes my thighs as I swing one leg over his lap.
The heat of him hits me. Then the sheer solidity. Like I’m sitting on a wall of muscle.
My palm finds his chest, feels the slow, steady thud of his heart.
He stirs with a low, rough groan tha
