Benedict’s POV
When her breathing evens out, I know she’s asleep.
Still curled against me, her skin warm, her lips slightly parted like she’s dreaming something soft.
I stay where I am, arms around her, face pressed into the curve of her neck. Breathing her in like I didn’t just spend the night dragging her to the edge again and again.
She’s so still now. Trusting. Vulnerable.
And fuck, I should move.
I never let women sleep in my bed. I never want them to. But she’s here. Wrapped in my arms.
I shift slightly, just to get a better look at her.