She stayed where she was for a long time after waking. The room was quiet except for the low, steady beat of Aiden's heart under her ear and the faint shift of fabric when he breathed.
His thumb kept moving in small circles at the base of her spine, slow and unhurried.
Neither of them spoke. The residual lock sat warm between them, no longer pulling or demanding. It felt more like a hand resting lightly at the back of the neck—present, constant, not asking for anything else.
Elizabeth kept her eyes closed and catalogued the aches. Her core felt heavy and used. Her thighs were sticky. There was a dull throb low in her belly that pulsed whenever she shifted even a little. It was not sharp enough to worry her. It felt earned.
Eventually she moved. The small change in position pulled a soft, wet sound from where they were still joined. A thicker trickle of cooling spend slipped out around him and ran down the inside of her thigh. She winced.
Aiden's hand stilled. "Sore?"
