The first light of dawn painted grey streaks across the ceiling, a sight Jay became aware of long before he dared to move. The warmth beside him was a foreign, intoxicating weight. Melissa was asleep, her back to him, the sheet tangled around her waist, exposing the smooth, pale plane of her back. The memory of the night the frantic undressing, the feel of her skin, the whispered promises and desperate soundscrashed over him in a disorienting wave.
He lay perfectly still, trapped between the instinct to pull her closer and the urge to flee the intimacy of the shared space. This was the "no going back" he had warned her about, and now, in the stark, unsexy light of morning, the reality of it was terrifying.
When she finally stirred, turning over with a soft sigh, their eyes met. There was no confident seductress now, only a woman looking just as uncertain as he felt.
"Hey," she mumbled, her voice husky with sleep.
"Hey," he replied, the word feeling clumsy in his mouth.
