To touch him.
To curl her hand around the base, and see how far her fingers could go before they failed. To feel the heat. The tension. The promise.
She didn't.
But her fingers twitched.
And her thighs pressed together--not to stop the feeling.
To contain what was building.
Marcus's arm shifted around her waist. Tighter. Just slightly.
Not possessive.
Not impatient.
Just present.
A quiet I know.
Her chest rose. Fell.
Again.
She closed her eyes.
"...Thank you," she whispered, so soft she wasn't even sure he'd heard it. "I feel... safe."
His arm around her waist tightened. Just slightly.
A pause.
Then--
"Good."
One word. Warm. Low. Final.
And when sleep finally came, it didn't drift in.
It drenched her
--pulling her into darkness thick with heat and skin and sounds she
