Golden morning light streamed through the gauze curtains, painting warm patches across the rumpled bedding. Miranda stirred against the solid warmth beneath her, every muscle in her body aching in ways that brought back vivid flashes of the previous night. Heat pooled in her stomach as the memories rushed back, painting her cheeks pink.
Nolan’s heartbeat drummed steadily under her ear, his chest moving in the slow rhythm of someone barely awake. Even in sleep, his arm remained locked around her waist, holding her against him like he was afraid she might disappear.
A soft smile touched her lips as she traced lazy patterns across his chest, her thoughts wandering through everything that had changed between them. The past week had been a storm of violence and desire, nothing like the lukewarm relationship she’d had with Ryan. Being pressed against Nolan felt inevitable, like coming home.
She felt his grip tighten around her waist—he was waking up.
