Margaux’s POV
Something warm is beneath my cheek.
Something steady, rock solid…
Something that rises and falls. Definitely not my mattress.
Something that smells like cedarwood and laundry detergent.
My eyes slowly blink open.
Soft morning light filters through the curtains.
And then I realize exactly where I am.
Not in the apartment I share with Anna.
Not in my bed.
Not on a couch.
I’m…
Oh f**k!
Dean!
I’m practically wrapped around Dean Sinclair like one of his one night stands!
My head is on his chest. His hands are in my hair unintentionally stroking my scalp.
One of his arms is around my waist holding me tightly.
I am cradled on top of his bare chest with nothing but a hoodie clinging to me.
And sometime during the night, my leg has somehow ended up tangled with
