Page 62 of Branded By Shadow
For one stupid second, I don’t move.
Because I’m warm.
Because I’m sore.
Because Jayce is wrapped around me like the world might try to take me in my sleep.
Then the phone buzzes again.
My heart stops.
Brianna.
I know it before I see the screen. Maybe that’s stupid. Maybe that’s hope being an idiot in pretty shoes. But I know.
I carefully lift Jayce’s arm.
It does not move.
Of course.
The man is a human bear trap.
I try again, slower this time, sliding out from under his hold inch by careful inch. His brow pulls tight, and he makes a low sound in his chest that sends my pulse into a very unfortunate little spin.
“Stay,” he mutters.
My whole body goes soft.
No.
No, no, no.
We are not being soft about sleepy biker commands.
“I need the bathroom,” I whisper.
His arm loosens.
Barely.
Enough.
I slip free and sit up, biting my lip when soreness pulls through me. A deep, intimate ache that reminds me exactly how I got it.
I glance back at him.
Mistake.
Jayce is sprawled on the blanket, shirtless, one arm bent near his head, dark hair messy, silver at his temples catching the pale light. Scars and ink mark his chest.
Even asleep, he looks like trouble with a pulse.
My phone buzzes again.
I grab it.
Missed calls: Brianna.
