The world returned to Sarah in slow, indulgent waves.
First came the heat—thick, living heat wrapped around her like a second skin. Not the passive warmth of sheets or sunlight, but something primal and possessive: Peter's broad chest sealed to her back, his heartbeat a steady drum against her spine, his arm slung heavy across her waist with fingers splayed wide over the soft curve of her bare stomach.
He held her like she might vanish if he loosened his grip, even in sleep. His breath ghosted warm across the nape of her neck—slow, even exhales that stirred the baby-fine hairs there and sent lazy, delicious ripples down her body.
Second: the ache.Deep, bone-settled soreness that bloomed between her thighs and pulsed upward into her lower belly like a secret brand. Not pain—never pain—but a lush, undeniable reminder.
