"After the storm, love speaks the quietest."
The world was warm. That was my first coherent thought. Not just physically warm from the cocoon of blankets and two bodies finally at perfect rest, but warm with a deep, pervasive sense of peace. The agonizing static in my mind was gone, replaced by a clear, blissful silence. The heat had passed, leaving behind a profound sense of completeness and utter restful depletion.
I woke nestled against Marcus's chest, my head tucked perfectly into the hollow beneath his chin. His arm, strong and heavy, was draped over my waist, anchoring me in a way that felt both possessive and protective. The scent of our combined essence, my residual sweetness now tempered and grounded by his strong, pure oak, was the most comforting perfume in existence, and it was the scent of safety, and it was the scent of home.
