Chapter 7

The crisp bite of the morning air was the first thing to pierce the haze of sleep, followed closely by the scent of him—sandalwood, old leather, and the faint, metallic tang of sweat that had lingered from the night before. My eyelids fluttered open, heavy and slow, adjusting to the pale, golden light filtering through the blinds of the hotel room we’d claimed as a temporary fortress against the world. Or perhaps it was just the back of the event hall’s executive suite, a room that smelled faintly of stale coffee and polished wood, but to me, it smelled like sanctuary. I was tangled in the sheets, my body a warm, heavy weight against his chest. His arm, thick and muscular, was draped over my waist, holding me in place as if he were afraid I might vanish into the ether if he loosened his grip even an inch. I turned my head, resting my cheek against the solid expanse of his pectoral muscle, listening to the steady, powerful thrum of his heart beneath my ear. *Thump-thump. Thump-thump.* It was a rhythm I had memorized in the dark, a drumbeat that had guided me through the chaos of the previous