Jonathan's POV
Recently. That's how long I've been sharing a bed with Savannah, and my entire existence has shifted into something I barely recognize.
My mornings begin before dawn breaks. I rise well ahead of my wife, moving through a carefully choreographed routine: prepare breakfast, shower in silence, squeeze in a workout, and handle hushed business calls to prevent my company from crumbling into dust.
Then we make love.
What started as desperate need has evolved into something more dangerous—routine. The moment I wake with her curves pressed against me, her steady breathing drowning out the chaos in my head, her silk nightgown twisted around her body and clinging to mine, I become utterly defenseless.
Her skin burns against mine while my pulse thunders so violently I'm certain it will wake her. The irony cuts deep—I've shared a home with this woman for years, yet only now am I truly drowning in her warmth.
In her sanctuary.
