A Court of Storm and Legacy

Pillow wall bullshit

Tate

My chest rose and fell in steady breaths. 

Warmth spread beneath my right cheek and my heartbeat reverberated in my ears. 

I sighed contently, soaking up this moment of complete comfort. 

Another round of pounding heartbeat encouraged me to crack my eyes open. Huh, I'm a lot closer to the fireplace than I was last night, I remark, softly smacking my lips together. 

Light poured into the bedroom, bright and warm, causing my eyes to remain squinted. As my senses slowly returned to me, I noticed my lack of mobility. 

My legs were restrained, held down by a heavy –though not uncomfortable– weight. One of my arms was wrapped solidly around a large pillow, gripping into its muscles–

My eyes shot wide open. Pillows did not have large rippling muscles. At least, not the pillows in the Valkyrie temple. 

Fucking pillow wall bullshit. 

I shut my eyes tight, praying I was wrong and that my mind had conjured up a large male for me to cradle in my sleep. 

I freed a short breath and glanced down at my legs. 

My worst fears were confirmed. 

My legs lay entangled with Nyx' pyjama clad pants, pants that sat dangerously low on his hip bone. 

I had to move my eyes away from the band of his pants and take two deep breaths before continuing my examination of our current situation. 

Sometime in the night, hopefully before I latched onto this males body like a horned-up leech, Nyx had discarded his sleep shirt, and lay half naked beneath me. 

It wasn't fair that he looked the way it did. It was positively criminal. He was carved from stone, I was sure of it.

His perfectly carved chest was the cause of the soft up and down motion of my body. His chest was enormous in comparison to my own, and I was no petite female either. 

I laid practically horizontal upon him. My head was tucked into the crook of his neck, providing me more than an ample waft of his natural smell. Which, dammit, smelt like sin. In a woodsy, manly sort of way. 

One of my arms had wrapped itself around one of his biceps, which I prayed he was flexing or I'd never be able to face this male without my cheeks raising to unnatural temperatures. 

My other– oh no. 

My other hand was laying low on his hips, low enough that my traitorous sleeping body had wiggled my fingers under his elastic waistband. 

I swore softly, desperately trying to ignore every sensation my body was feeling at present. 

I had a plan. I was going to stick to my plan. I was not going to deviate from that plan to give into some ridiculous primal urges. 

Nyx shifted beneath me and my heart stopped dead. I was positive I had ceased living. 

He exhaled softly, telling me he must still be sleeping. 

My heart resumed pumping. 

I attempted to remove myself from this precarious position without waking the sleeping giant beneath me. 

I wiggled slightly and immediately came into contact with something I desperately wish I hadn't. 

It's the morning, I reminded myself, It has absolutely nothing to do with you lying barely clothed on top of him with your hands practically groping his dick.