I wake up in his arms, heart hammering. Noah’s chest is hard and steady beneath me, his warmth almost suffocating. Last night wasn’t just gentle, it was hungry, possessive, consuming.

“Morning, little one.” he murmurs, lips brushing my temple. His hand drifts over my waist, holding me tight.

I try to move, but he pins me gently. “Where are you going?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.

“I… I need to get up,” I whisper, but he chuckles.

“Nope,” he says, smirking, eyes ...