Book 1: Chapter 51

Saint wrapping himself around me feels like a soft, heat-generating cloud. His scent is familiar and comforting. The only thing that would be better would be Bronx and my limbs entangled.

The morning light intrudes in the room and crawls across my face. I stretch sleepily and find that I have a stiff neck and a chill around me. Saint must have adjusted positions at some point in the night because his fur cocoon is not forming a barrier of warmth around me. I tug on my blanket to cover myself better, but it doesn't budge.

“Saint, you have a fur coat, stop hogging the blanket." I groan.

A pair of strong arms creates a cage around me, as if by instinct, and pulls me close to a hard chest. The familiar light snoring of Bronx against my ear sets my heart alight.

"Bronx?" I whisper in disbelief. I roll over in his arms so I'm facing him. His breath hitches a little, but he continues the slow rhythmic breathing of sleep. I don't know when he shifted, but he is naked under the blanket. Could