The fire burned low, embers glowing like scattered rubies in the hearth. Ryder’s arm was heavy around Isobel’s waist, his thumb tracing lazy, absent-minded circles over her hip. She’d melted into the curve of his body, her head tucked beneath his chin, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat against her ear.
The room was quiet except for the soft pop of the logs and the rhythmic sound of their breathing falling into sync. Every now and then, Ryder’s lips would brush the top of her head—not quite a kiss, more like a promise.
She’d told herself she’d only stay for a little while, just long enough to talk. But warmth seeped into her bones, and the feel of him—solid, safe, unyielding—made the thought of moving impossible.
“Still thinking about leaving?” he murmured, voice low and edg
