Luna’s POV
I can still feel the rough skin of Ashton’s finger under my chin. The contact was firm yet surprisingly gentle, and weirdly, I wasn’t afraid despite the raw strength radiating from his touch.
When he left, I had to take a moment just to remember how to breath, as it seems every time he comes near me I forget how too.
We’re now settled in the living room, a football game playing on the television while we eat the takeout that Ashton ordered for us. My pizza box balances precariously on my knees as I fold my first slice in half, struggling to keep the overflowing toppings from sliding off. I’ve never seen anything like this. The pizza I’ve eaten before came from the frozen section of the grocery store . . . bland, stiff and tasting more like cardboard than food. I can promise y
