The way he’s wrapped around my body—legs, arms, and that big rough hand around my neck—should make me feel panicked. Or cornered, at least. Like a hunted fox, staring down its bloody end. But all I feel is sheltered. Secure. As if his body is a shield instead of a weapon that could do me harm. For the first time in my life, a man feels not like war to me, but like home.
