When I woke, sunlight was creeping lazily through the curtains. It spilled across the hardwood floor in soft golden streaks, catching the edge of the armchair in the corner, the hem of a blazer draped over it, and the edge of the sheet tangled around my legs.
I blinked against the brightness, momentarily disoriented. And then I felt it.
Warmth.
Familiar, solid warmth against my back. A slow, steady rise and fall.
Christian.
I'd almost forgotten seeing him. Now it all came back.
His chest was pressed against me. One arm still draped around my waist, holding me like something he wasn't ready to let go of. His breath stirred the strands of my hair.
I didn't move.
I should've.
I should've slipped out from under the blanket, tiptoed back to my own bed, pretended this didn't happen.
But I didn't.
I stayed there, still and quiet, eyes tracing the soft morning light as it stretched across the room.
