The Widow's Son: 7. Afterwards

The world was soft gray when Caroline opened her eyes.

For a long moment, she didn’t know where she was. The sheets beneath her felt different—warmer, heavier—smelling faintly of cedar and smoke instead of the lavender sachets she kept in her own room. Then the memories of the night before struck her all at once, like a tide crashing back to shore.

Nathaniel’s hands. His lips. The way he had moved inside her, slow at first, then relentless, shattering every boundary she had clung to. The sound of his voice, hoarse with possession, whispering Mine.

Caroline’s breath caught. She shifted slightly, and that was when she felt him.

Nathaniel lay beside her, sprawled across the tangled sheets, one arm flung over her waist as though claiming her even in sleep. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, warm against her back. She could feel the solid weight of his thigh pressed against hers, his breath ghosting the nape of her neck.

It should have felt suffocatin