There’s something in his expression that shifts the second my eyes meet his, something soft and grounding and steady that settles into me immediately.
“Good morning, baby,” he murmurs.
My lips curve without effort, without thought.
“Good morning.”
His hand moves almost absently, brushing slowly over my arm, fingertips tracing up and down in a way that’s gentle but not cautious, present but not hesitant.
“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly.
I don’t answer straight away.
Not because I don’t know, but because I want to feel it properly before I say it.
I shift slightly under the sheets, testing it, noticing the way my body responds, the way the soreness is there but not overwhelming, the way that deeper warmth still lingers, still anchors me.
And I smile.
“I feel good.”
The words land solid. True. Something in him eases, just slightly.
“That’s what I want to hear.”
My gaze drifts around the room for a second before settling back on him.
“Where’s Jackson?”
Zach lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh.
“He’s taken it upon himself to make breakfast.”
That pulls a soft laugh from me, unexpected but real.
“Oh no.”
He smiles faintly.
“I can’t promise nothing’s burnt,” he adds, “but he was very determined.”
Something warm settles in my chest at that. At the thought of him out there. Trying.
I shift again, and this time I become aware of something else, of myself. Of the fact that I’m still naked.
The memory flickers back, not sharp, not overwhelming, but present enough to make that warmth deepen, to make something inside me respond instinctively instead of shutting down.
And instead of pulling away from it, I move toward him. Closer Sliding into him without thinking about it, my body fitting against his like it belongs there, like it knows exactly where it needs to be.
His arm comes around me immediately, like he’s been waiting for it, his hand settling at my back as he presses a soft kiss into my hair.
I breathe him in.
Let myself feel him.
“Zach…” I murmur.
His hand stills slightly.
