Their breathing slowed, but the silence between them wasn't empty—it was full. Saturated. The kind of silence that only came after everything had been said through hands, through mouths, through bodies pressed too close to leave room for lies.
Tessa didn't move.
Her leg was thrown across his like it had always belonged there, her face buried in the curve of his neck, inhaling him like his scent was a drug and she was too far gone to care about sobriety. One of her hands rested over his heart—steady, alive, warm. Her thumb rubbed slow circles on his chest, absent-minded, like she was trying to memorize every beat before time came to tear her away.
And Parker… he just held her.
One arm across her waist, the other behind her head, tangled in her hair, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like it was daring him to fall asleep and waste a second of this.
His mind wasn't quiet.
Not really.
