It was late, the kind of stillness where the whole house seemed to be holding its breath. The only sound was the faint hum of the ceiling fan above, slicing the silence in lazy circles. She stirred beneath the covers, pulling the sheets tighter, but the chill clung stubbornly to her skin.

Rolling onto her side, her gaze found Javier’s broad frame beside her. His back rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the strong lines of his shoulders softened by sleep. Even half-buried in shadows, he looked like a wall of warmth. Without thinking, she inched closer, pressing herself to him and curling around his body until her nose brushed his shoulder blade.

The sudden shift drew a groggy sound from him. His breath hitched, and then came his voice—low, rough, wrapped in sleep. “What are you doing?” he rumbled, the words gruff but not unkind. She buried her face against him, her reply muffled. “I’m cold.”

A pause. Then, with that same rasp, amused and half-annoyed, “…and?” She smiled into the curve of his back, snuggling even tighter, her arm sliding around his waist. “You’re warm.”

He gave a faint, disbelieving huff, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. One hand reached back blindly, catching her hip and tugging her closer, closing the gap between them. His warmth immediately spread into her skin, seeping into her bones.

“Better?” he muttered, voice already fading back toward sleep.

“Mm-hm,” she breathed, eyes slipping shut, her body finally loosening into his.