The words come out of the dark, warm against your ear, and you feel them more than hear them. His breath is a slow, steady heat on the back of your neck.

Your knee bends before your mind catches up. The mattress shifts as he moves closer, the frame creaking softly under his weight. His other hand finds your hip, guiding you, settling you against him.

The air is cool where the sheets have slipped away, but he’s warm—solid, pressed along your back like he belongs there. His fingers tighten, just enough to let you feel how steady he is.