[Back to Clara's POV the next day]
Clara woke slowly, drifting up from sleep like she was floating toward the surface of warm water. The first thing she became aware of was the steady warmth beneath her cheek—broad, solid, rhythmic.
Nathaniel's heartbeat.
Her eyes fluttered open. Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and pale, casting gold over the room. She blinked, realizing she was still pressed against his chest, his arm draped loosely around her waist, holding her in place like she was something he instinctively protected even in sleep.
Her face warmed as last night replayed through her mind—her first time in his room, the bath, his soft voice telling her goodnight, the warmth of his arm pulling her close.
She hadn't realized when she'd fallen asleep. Only that she had.
And peacefully.
