Derrick's POV
Morning came too fast.
Sunlight spilled into the room through the half-drawn curtains, painting soft golden lines across the sheets tangled around our bodies. I woke up to the warmth of it on my skin—and the even warmer presence next to me.
Nathan.
Still here.
His back was to me now, the smooth curve of his spine exposed as the sheet barely clung to his hips. His hair was a mess, his neck scattered with bite marks and bruises that I'd left the night before. My work. My fucking masterpiece.
And I hated it.
I hated how calm he looked. How peaceful. Like he belonged there.
The ache in my chest was foreign, unsettling. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be gone by now. Out. Dismissed. Forgotten.
But I hadn't said a word.
And worse—I didn't want him to leave.
