“Where are you going?” he asks, voice groggy. “I thought that—” He huffs and moves over a bit, lifting the covers again to pat the empty space beside him. “Get in here, Farrow. Stop overthinking it.” I roll my eyes, tempted to leave anyway just to piss him off, but find myself climbing in instead. I settle against the pillows, stilling when his big body wraps around mine, encasing me in his warmth. His arms are folded around my middle, face pressed between my shoulder blades, one thick thigh wedged between my legs. I couldn't move even if I tried. “Night, Oakley,” he whispers. I swallow,
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