Mechelle's POV
I dared not move, afraid of provoking him, his embrace exuding an indescribable warmth. Lying on my side in bed, my back turned to him, he held me tightly from behind, no other thoughts crossing his mind, as if seeking warmth, holding on so tightly. Long ago, I read in a magazine that this kind of affectionate embrace was the most standard posture for lovers, and this embrace was so warm, especially since it came from him, I felt warmth deep in my heart.
"Don't move, I just want to hold you," he whispered softly.
I furrowed my brows imperceptibly, saying nothing. I wondered if something had happened to him later, otherwise how could he show such a vulnerable side in front of me? When he was drunk, he was quiet, not threatening me, not mocking me, and not endlessly demanding from me, there was only an unprecedented peace.
