She’d wake with her limbs cast to the farthest reaches of the bed, caught in a tangle of sheets and strewn-about pillows, half her bedding on the floor and at least one corner of a fitted sheet caught on her elbow or ankle or ear. But waking up with Sam was different. Different from waking up alone, different from waking up with anyone else, and heck, it was even different from waking up with him the last time it happened. Waking up with Sam was like waking up wrapped in a warm blanket of contentment and satisfaction. She wasn’t searching for anything or trying to throw anyone off, she was just there. Peacefully snug within the warm confines of arms she never wanted to leave. She concentrated on the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. The even beating of his heart. The loose spread of his fingers across her middle. Sam was content too. Sleeping easy. No nightmares, at least not the kind he used to have. The kind where he’d thrash in his sleep. Groan. And wrestle the demons he hadn’t wanted anyone to know were real.
