Raven woke in Vincent's bed.
The black silk sheets had slipped down to her hips sometime in the night, leaving her skin exposed to the cool air that drifted from the tall windows. Morning light filtered through in pale stripes, catching on the faint sheen of sweat that still clung to the hollow of her throat from hours earlier. She registered the weight first—his arm draped loose across her waist, heavy but not pinning. The heat of his chest pressed against her back. The slow, even rhythm of his breathing brushed the nape of her neck.
She didn't move right away.
