I wake up warm.
Too warm.
Wrapped in something solid and comfortable and—
Oh.
Bael's arms.
I'm still pressed against his chest, his arm still around my waist like it was when I fell asleep last night, and for a moment I just lie there, not moving, barely breathing.
Last night comes back in vivid detail.
Getting on my knees, begging him to "reward" me, the sounds I made, the things I said.
Oh god.
My face heats up immediately, and I'm grateful he can't see it from this angle.
But underneath the embarrassment, there's something else.
Something softer.
The memory of how he held me after, how he cleaned me up gently, how he pulled me close like he wanted me there.
Like I belonged there.
My chest feels tight in a way that has nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with hope.
Dangerous hope.
Because last time…
Last time he held me like this, the next morning he'd pulled away.
Created distance.
