The hum of the afternoon drifted lazily through the half-drawn curtains, sunlight casting golden patches across the wrinkled bedsheets and the bare floor. The room was still steeped in the heat of shared bodies, the air heavy with warmth and something softer than silence.
Nita stirred first. Her lashes fluttered against Declan’s chest, and her legs slowly stretched out beneath the tangle of covers. His arm was still wrapped around her waist, his fingers resting just beneath her ribs like he belonged there. They had fallen asleep that way—breathless and tangled, skin against skin—after an unhurried round of lovemaking that had pulled them into the kind of sleep only peace could bring.
She exhaled slowly, her cheek pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and smiled. Not the kind you
