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Nobody deserves to feel that way. Even if spooning in bed is pretty far over the imaginary line I’d drawn in my head that marked himnot for you. Even if I hardly know anything about him and vice versa.

Even if it’s taking everything I have not to ask if I can kiss him every time he looks my way.

Not to pull him tight now that he’s lying in my arms.

I don’t fall asleep for a long time.

Something warm and heavy is holding me down. Disoriented, I try to move out from under it. It emits a muffled noise of protest.

Shit. Lysander.Suddenly I’m very awake — and very aware of my morning wood.

It’s barely morning, sunlight peeking around Lysander’s curtains. I didn’t mean to sleep the whole night. I had a half-cocked idea that I’d wait until Lysander was deeply asleep and sneak out while The Sanctum was empty, the idea of Syril oranyone else finding me in Lysander’s bed filling me with weird guilt. I must’ve slept like the dead, however.

This touch thing might go both ways, if I’m honest with myself.

I carefully angle my lower half away from the casual —bare, oh Christ— thigh Lysander has thrown across me. He’s curled around my shoulder, arm across my chest and his face pressed into my shirt. I can barely see the flutter of his eyelashes from this angle. My heart thumps.

The more significant problem is that kissing isn’t the only thing I want to do to Lysander. I want to understand him.

I want to protect him.

Slowly, carefully, I extract myself from his grip and escape into his bathroom. My erection goes down enough to pee, and afterward I splash cold water on my face to dispel the last of the sleep from my eyes.

“Be careful,” I hiss at my reflection.

He glares back.

Lysander yawns and holds the covers up when I emerge. “Tired,” he grunts.

Warm affection rushes over me. I have an inkling he’s a morning person, but he must be exhausted from not sleeping for so long. I slide back into the bed and he fits against my side immediately, eyes drifting shut again. I can’t help stroking his slender back over the soft pajama shirt, my palm gliding over the curve of a wing.

“How did you sleep?” I murmur.

His grip on me tightens briefly. “Really well.”

“No nightmares?”

“No. I did dream, though.” He squirms. His hips are shifting against me. A hot spear of arousal stabs me.Holy… what kind of dreams?“I don’t remember them.”

“Not bad dreams?”

“I think they were nice dreams.” He sighs into my shoulder and his hips still. I start counting backwards from fifty.

He doesn’t mean it that way.

“Thank you for staying, even though you didn’t want to,” he murmurs.

“Hey, no.” I shift up on my elbows. “What do you mean?”

A blue stain seeps across his cheeks, which I recognize now as his blush.

“I practically begged you. I was desperate and acted rather unseemly. It won’t happen again.” A hint of poshness creeps into his voice as he goes on.

“You did not,” I tell him firmly. “You asked for something you needed and I’m glad you trusted me with it. The rest was all my own hang-ups. As a matter of fact, any time you need this, just ask, okay? There’s no reason for you to suffer if I can help.”

“You’d do that?” His face transforms, his eyes lighting up. If the little voice in the back of my head was screamingwhat are you doinga heartbeat ago it’s silent now.

“Anytime. I’m at your disposal. Just think of me as a human teddy bear.”