When I woke up again, I was the most comfortable I had ever been. It was night, and the overhead light was off. One of the bedside lights, however, had been clicked on. I was resting against Asher’s bare chest with his arm around my shoulders.
He was awake, holding a book with his other hand. When he noticed my opened eyes, he closed the book and placed it on the edge of the bed. Then he brushed his free hand through my hair.
“How are you feeling?” he asked me.
My brain was still pleasantly blissed-out and numb, so I took a moment to carefully consider his question. I supposed, when I focused in past my pleasure, I felt a bit stretched out.
“A little sore, but not bad.” I giggled a little. “I feel more good than bad.”
I noticed then, the worried glint in his eye and the slight downwar
