Aria’s POV
I woke up tangled in warmth.
Grayson’s arm was heavy across my waist, his chest pressed against my back, his scent all over me. It was the kind of lazy morning bliss I used to dream about—sheets rumpled, skin sore from pleasure, heart still fluttering from the memory of him inside me.
But as soon as I opened my eyes fully, reality hit like cold water.
This wasn’t just anyone’s bed.
This was my best friend’s father.
And the more dangerous truth?
I wanted to stay in his arms forever.
I tried to slip out from beneath him quietly, not because I regretted anything—but because I didn’t trust myself not to turn around and beg for another round. His hand caught mine as I sat up.
“Running already?” he murmured, voice deliciously rough from sleep.
“I should shower,” I whispered.
