Noah
The light coming through the blinds was bright. It pooled on the floorboards, but it didn't reach the bed, where the heat was thick, smelling of sweat and the sharp scent of Cassian's body.
I couldn't quite get my eyes open.
My cheek was glued to the damp pillowcase, my mouth slightly open against the cotton, letting a thin line of saliva run onto the fabric.
Every time I tried to slide back into the heavy, dark sleep I'd been chasing since three in the morning, the drag of Cassian's weight against my hips pulled me right back to the surface.
He was behind me, his chest pressed flat against my back, pinning me into the mattress.
He had one hand anchored in my hair, fingers tangled near the scalp to tilt my head down, while his other arm was locked around my waist, lifting me just enough to keep me open.
He was moving with a slow, heavy rhythm that felt less like lovemaking and more like a patient, inevitable drilling.
