Elias Grayson:
The book was open in Sebastian's massive hands, the pages looking almost delicate between his fingers. I was tucked into his side, my head resting against his ginormous muscled shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his breathing moving me slightly with every inhale. His arm was bent comfortably, holding the book at the perfect height for me, and without thinking, my hand had wrapped itself around his forearm.
His arm felt like a living, breathing teddy bear.
Warm. Solid. Safe.
I shifted closer, sliding both of my arms around it and pressing my cheek more firmly against his shoulder. He smelled clean, like soap and something faintly woodsy that was just him. The contrast between us was almost ridiculous—him towering over me, built like something carved out of stone, and me fitting perfectly into the curve of his body like I was meant to be there.
It felt nice.
No—more than nice.
Peaceful.
