To Ross, Sabrina was.
The flush on her cheeks, the faint bruises from his grip blooming like love marks on her skin, the way her chest rose and fell in deep, exhausted sleep—it all made her more beautiful than any pristine vision ever could.
This was his Sabrina: thoroughly taken, utterly surrendered, and radiant in her surrender.
A soft, possessive smile curved his lips as he slid closer on the bed.
Carefully, tenderly, he gathered her boneless form into his arms, pulling her against his broad chest.
She stirred faintly with a sleepy murmur, instinctively nestling into him even in unconsciousness.
Ross wrapped his strong arms around her tightly, one hand splayed across the small of her back, the other cradling the nape of her neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to her damp forehead.
He held her like that for a long while, listening to her steady breathing, feeling the lingering warmth of her body against his.
