Morning light streamed in through the wide glass windows, spilling across the sheets in soft golden waves. Maya stirred, blinking against the brightness, and found herself wrapped in Damien’s arms. His chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, steady and unyielding, like a heartbeat she could anchor herself to.
For a moment, she didn’t move. She simply let herself exist in the cocoon of his warmth, the rhythm of his breathing grounding her. Safe. Wanted. Chosen.
Her fingers drifted over his bare skin, tracing the lines of muscle, the faint scars etched into him—marks of battles she’d never witnessed, reminders of a life lived in shadows. She thought of her own scars—those carved by hardship, by survival, by pain she had carried alone and hidden for so long… and yet, he had looked at them as
