The warmth of Maeve's body against mine was dangerously addictive. Her arm was draped over my waist, fingers lightly tracing patterns along my skin, while my head rested against her chest.
Her heartbeat was steady, soothing, like a lullaby pulling me into dangerous comfort.
And the worst part?
I didn't want to move.
I should have moved. I should have been panicking about how much time had passed, about where I was, about the fact that my body felt like it had been thoroughly wrecked in the best possible way. But no. Instead, I was cuddling. Like some love-struck fool.
Me. Cuddling.
What the hell had Maeve done to me?
I sighed, shifting slightly against her, and Maeve made a sleepy noise in response, tightening her grip around me. Oh, this was bad. Really bad. Too good.
I could feel the soreness in every muscle, the pleasant ache left behind from hours of… well. I wasn't even sure how many times we had—
Wait.
What time was it?
