[The Next Day]
The first thing I registered was warmth.
Not the kind that came from sunlight—though faint golden rays did filter through the heavy curtains—but the kind that came from bare skin, from slow, steady breaths against my hair, from arms wrapped tightly around my waist like I might float away in the night.
Salvo.
I blinked, dazed, barely remembering when I fell asleep. My body still ached in places I didn't want to think about too hard, and my throat felt raw—not just from the things he did, but maybe also from the things he said.
The things he didn't say.
I shifted slightly, feeling the weight of his arm draped over my side. It tightened immediately.
"Don't even think about it," came his voice—gruff, sleepy, and unreasonably deep for this early in the morning.
"I was just turning," I mumbled, my voice muffled by the pillow. "Not trying to escape."
