Page 112 of Joker

That should probably feel dangerous in a way that sends me running.

Instead, all I can think is that I could get used to waking up like this way too fucking easily.

That’s the problem. Not the sex. Not the fact that I finally had her under me, around me, saying my real name like it belonged in her mouth.

No.

The problem is this. The quiet. The warmth. The way she fits against me like some part of my body had been built waiting for hers and just forgot to mention it until now.

That’s what should worry me. That’s what actually does. Because I know exactly what kind of man I am, and men like me don’t survive getting attached to things this soft.

I turn my head just enough to look at her.

She’s still asleep, lashes low against her cheeks, mouth slightly parted, one hand tucked between us under the blanket. In sleep, she looks younger somehow. Less braced. Less like she’s expecting the world to take a swing at her the second she drops her guard.

That alone puts something dark and ugly in my chest. Because I know she didn’t get that way on her own. I know enough now to understand what kind of man Cal is, even if I don’t know every detail yet. And I know enough to know if he ever gets close enough to touch her again, I’m going to put him in the fucking ground.

The thought comes easy.

Too easy. No hesitation. No moral debate. Just certainty.

That should probably concern me too.

It doesn’t.

She shifts before I can keep going down that road, making a small sleepy sound low in her throat as she starts waking up.

My arm is still around her waist. I leave it there. Not because I’m trying to keep her in place. Because I want one more second before the daylight gets involved and everything changes shape.

Her breathing changes first. Then her whole body goes subtly alert under my arm.

And there it is.

That tiny, awful moment where her nervous system wakes up before the rest of her does and immediately starts checking for danger.

I feel it happen. The way she stills. The way her body goes just slightly tight. The way she realizes where she is all at once. That alone is enough to put a bad taste in my mouth.

Because she’s here. With me. Safe. And still her first instinct is to brace.

I loosen my arm before she has to ask. Not pulling away. Just giving her room before she needs to fight for it.

She shifts carefully, starting to sit up, and I open my eyes fully just as she glances back at me. Her face does about six things in two seconds.

Awareness. Heat. Panic. Vulnerability. And underneath all of it, something worse. Because this mattered to her too. That’s what I see immediately.

Not regret. That would be easier. This mattered. And now she doesn’t know what the hell to do with that.

“You running?” I ask, voice rough from sleep.

There’s no accusation in it. No pressure. Just a question.

She goes still for half a second before answering too fast. “No.”

Good.

I loosen my arm completely and let her move without crowding her.

That’s the thing with Raven. You can’t push when she’s already halfway to bolting in her own head. She sits on the edge of the bed with the sheet gathered around her, and I can practically see the spiral starting to build.