Page 112 of California Wild

She hadn’t moved.

Now, as the sun dipped low outside, casting long shadows through the blinds, Jesse stepped into the bedroom again.

The light slanted across her body in soft streaks—gold on skin, hair like fire spilling over his pillow. Her tank had twisted, baring the curve of her waist, the swell of her hip. One knee bent just slightly.

He paused in the doorway.

His heart did that thing it always did around her. Tightened. Clenched.

He stepped in quiet, like muscle memory. Knew which board creaked, which hinge needed oil. He padded barefoot across the hardwood, crouched beside the bed, and just… looked.

Jesus.

She was so fucking beautiful.

Not in that glamorized, stage-lights way. Not even in the way she used to be, with her smoky eye makeup and too-loud laugh and a tequila bottle in her hand.

This was different.

This was quiet. Raw. Real.

This was Hayley in his bed, curled into his sheets, completely unguarded.

He brushed the back of his fingers along her bare arm, slow and reverent, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch.

She stirred, breath hitching. Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes yet.

Instead, she shifted back into him with a sleepy sigh, tucking herself into the shape of his body like she’d always belonged there. Her fingers slid across his abs, over the ridges of muscle still damp from the shower.

“Mmm.” Her voice was wrecked with sleep, low and soft. “You’re warm.”

Jesse smiled, leaning in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Been busy. Played house.”

She let out a lazy hum, her fingers tracing faint lines over his ribs like she was drawing constellations. “You do the dishes too?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, dragging his knuckles gently down her spine, feeling her melt into the sheets. “Might start charging rent.”

She made a quiet sound—somewhere between a laugh and a groan—and burrowed deeper into him.

“Jesse?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t let me sleep too long.”

He didn’t answer. Just kissed her shoulder again, breathing her in, grounding himself in her warmth.

Like hell he’d wake her.

She was safe.

She was here.

And for the first time in six fucking weeks, so was he.

Then—

She froze.

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