For hours, they lay tangled in each other, not always in passion, but in quiet touches. His fingers tracing the curve of her waist, her head nestled against his shoulder, whispers exchanged in the dark. She confessed her fears about her mother, about not belonging in his world. He told her pieces of his past enough to make her realize the boy inside him had once been just as lonely as she had been.
When his lips finally claimed hers again, the kiss grew deeper, hungrier. His hands roamed, and hers clutched at him as though she could anchor herself to his very soul. The soreness of her body was still there, but it was drowned out by the way he worshiped her, slow and reverent, like she was the only truth left in his life.
By the time sleep tugged at her eyes, Emery found herself curled
