CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
A sharp sliver of sunlight crept through the curtains, casting a faint golden glow over the room.
Valerie stirred.
She felt warmth. A steady, solid presence behind her.
Then she realized—she wasn't alone.
Her eyes snapped open.
Savage.
His arm was draped over her waist, his face buried against her neck, his breathing slow and even. Their legs were tangled beneath the sheets, bodies still flush against each other.
Last night came rushing back—the heat, the recklessness, the way he had touched her like she was something more.
Valerie stiffened. What the fuck was she doing?
She tried to move, but the shift in her body made Savage stir. His grip on her waist tightened as he let out a drowsy hum.
"Mm... stay," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.
Something in her cracked at the sound of it. At how gentle he sounded.
And that terrified her.
