I woke up slowly, cocooned in warmth and a tangle of limbs that weren't mine alone. For a moment, I didn't remember where I was. Just the faint scent of cedar and skin, the weight of an arm around my waist, the deep, rhythmic sound of someone breathing close.
Mark.
His body was curled against mine, solid and steady, like the night hadn't happened—or maybe like it had, and everything had shifted just a little because of it. My cheek rested against his bare chest, his heartbeat thudding softly beneath my ear, and I stayed there longer than I should have, pretending I was still asleep.
The room was washed in soft, golden light—the kind that made everything feel slower, safer. No alarms. No schedules. No pretending.
Just quiet.
I let out a breath, careful not to move too much, afraid of ruining whatever this fragile stillness between us was. He stirred slightly but didn't wake, his grip tightening just a little like even in sleep, he didn't want me to slip away.
