The first thing Zane registered was the sound of her breathing, soft and slow and warm against his chest, and it speared straight through him.
For a second he lay still, eyes shut, afraid to look. Every nerve in his body was still ringing from last night, from the reckless, impossible way their fight had bled into something neither of them could stop.
Her hand was on his ribcage, barely there, just the faint weight of her fingertips resting like she had not meant to fall asleep touching him.
He opened his eyes.
Dawn had not fully arrived yet, only that faint silver glow pressing at the edges of her curtains. It cast her in a soft half light. Her hair spilled over the pillow in messy waves. Her lashes brushed her cheeks. Her lips were parted slightly, still swollen from how desperately and hungrily they had kissed.
His stomach dropped, not with desire but with guilt.
