Chapter Seventy-Five
The morning light crept into the room slowly, filtering through the window in pale, cool ribbons of blue and silver. I woke up before the alarm, my body wrapped in a deep, radiating heat that I hadn't felt in three long weeks.
For a second, my mind fell into the old, defensive habit of panic. I braced myself for the cold, empty space beside me. But then I felt the heavy, solid weight of Jake’s arm draped over my waist, his large hand resting flat against my stomach, rising and falling with the steady, slow rhythm of his breathing.
I turned my head carefully on the pillow. He was still fast asleep, his face completely relaxed in a way I rarely saw. Without the hard, defensive mask of the Vice President, he looked younger, the sharp lines of his jaw softened by sleep.
