Theresa.
The quiet rhythm of Lawrence's chest beneath my cheek was a steady, soothing anchor as the dark night stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass of the master suite.
His broad, warm arm remained securely wrapped around my waist, pinning me gently against his side. Every few moments, his long fingers would idly trace soft, soothing circles against my lower back, a quiet, instinctive gesture that proved even as he drifted toward sleep, his mind was entirely anchored on my presence.
I let out a low, content sigh, turning my face into the crisp collar of his linen shirt. The faint, refined scent of cedarwood and amber enveloped me, completely erasing the last lingering echoes of the busy corporate day.
"Still awake, sweetheart?" Lawrence's low, velvety baritone rumbled softly against my ear, his breath warm against my temple.
I smiled in the dim amber lighting, lifting my chin slightly to look up into his dark, watchful eyes. "I... I really can't say I am."
