Her thigh was wrapped around Xavier’s hip, his hand settled on her waist. Her face was in the crook of his neck, and her lips were at the base of his throat. She could feel the thudding of his pulse. They used to sleep like this so often as teenagers, huddled together in her twin-size bed. She leaned away and looked at his face. He was fast asleep, his lips slightly parted. He looked peaceful. Her fever had broken, thankfully, but a different kind of heat flooded her body, being pressed against him this way.
