His Sanctuary

SERAFINA

Dario didn't move at first. He just breathed, a long, shaky exhale that vibrated against my skin. His hands were wrapped around my thighs, his grip firm but not demanding. It was the grip of a man holding onto a life raft.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice muffled by the duvet. "I didn't mean to wake you."

I reached down, my fingers finding the messy hair at the nape of his neck. "What