18. "Your shoulder's surprisingly comfortable."
A soft warmth stirred against my cheek.
I blinked awake slowly, confused for a moment by the pale sunlight bleeding in through the fogged-up windows.
My head was resting against something solid.
Something... warm and firm. The scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air, and my senses began to catch up. It was a scent I knew all too well.
Zayden.
My heart jumped in my chest.
My cheek was pressed against his shoulder, his blazer still draped over me like a makeshift blanket. His arm had somehow found its way around me in the night, his fingers curled tightly around my waist as if he was afraid I'd vanish.
The car was still. The storm had passed. There was complete silence all around.
Outside, the world was washed clean. Damp leaves shimmered in the soft light, the road ahead finally visible again through the mist-covered windshield. Birds chirped faintly in the distance, like the universe had rebooted overnight.
I didn't move. I couldn't.
Because for some reason, the idea of shifting and breaking this moment felt wrong. Almost disrespectful. I felt too warm, too comfortable, too safe.
I tilted my head just enough to glance up at him. His eyes were closed, his face the most peaceful I had ever seen as he breathed deeply. He looked damn handsome like that. Innocent. Normal. Human.
And just so breathtaking.
It was unfair the amount of beauty God had bestowed upon this man.
Pressing my lips together, I shifted closer into his embrace, but the movement caused him to stir before he abruptly woke up, his eyes shooting open.
I stiffened, cursing in my head.
"Good morning." I said, my voice scratchy with sleep.
He looked at me, blinking like he was surprised to see the position we were in. His expression was unreadable, but not like his usual cold one.
"Morning." He replied, his voice low. Soft.
That one word held no mockery. No edge. It caught me off guard more than anything else he could have said.
I straightened slightly, realizing our bodies were still too close. But when I moved, his arm dropped away immediately, not with haste—just a quiet release.
And I instantly felt devoid of warmth, craving the sweet feeling again.
"You were out cold," he murmured. "Didn't even twitch all night."
"Well, your shoulder's surprisingly comfortable," I said, rubbing my shoulder. "Pillow-like, in a firm, emotionally repressed sort of way."
He smirked faintly. "Glad I could be of service."
I adjusted the blazer on my lap before handing it back. "Thanks. For this."
"Keep it." He asserted, and I chose not to argue with him on it.
His usual mask was slipping back into place, the cold edge of composure creeping into his posture. But there was something different this morning—something looser in the set of his shoulders. Less... guarded.
And I was already missing that side of him.
He pulled out his phone, letting out a sigh of gratitude. "We've got a bar. I can call for help now."
Relief fluttered in my chest. "Thank God. I would have lost my sanity if I were to stay in here any longer."
He shot me a dry look before tapping the screen and lifting the phone to his ear. "I'm calling one of my drivers. He'll be here in about forty minutes."
I arched a brow. "No tow truck?"
"I'd rather blow the car up than let some third-party idiot touch it. It'll be handled by my team."
Of course. Mr. Control Issues strikes again.
I leaned back in the seat, stretching out my arms. The silence between us wasn't strained now—it was something calmer. The aftermath of shared space, shared warmth and shared sleep.
I could still feel the faint imprint of where he had held me, and it made something unplaceable stir in my chest.
Zayden ended the call and looked out the windshield. "Congratulations on surviving the storm."
The corner of my lip lifted up into a small smile. "Yeah... you should buy me a cake for this achievement." I joked.
He snorted before looking over at me, eyes lingering for just a second too long. "You good?"
The simplicity of the question and the normality of his tone caught me off guard.
I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for not... you know. Abandoning me to be eaten by wolves."
"I thought about it." He said, a hint of playfulness coating his voice.
I smirked, giggling softly. "I bet you did."
He reached forward and twisted the key in the ignition again. The car sputtered, coughed and died with a wheeze of protest.
"Nope." He muttered, stepping out to stretch his legs.
I followed, the cold morning air nipping at my bare arms. The sky was a pale blue. Everything smelled like rain and wet leaves.
We stood in silence for a moment beside the useless car, the forest stretching around us on all sides.
Then, without looking at me, he said, "You handled last night well."
I turned to him. "You mean for someone who practically trembled herself to sleep?"
"No," he said simply. "For someone who didn't pretend not to be scared. Most people I know think it makes them look weak."
I blinked.
That might've been the closest thing to a compliment I'd ever heard from Zayden Ashford.
I licked my lips, a strange feeling fluttering in my chest, tugging at my heart.
The sound of a car in the distance caught our attention. I turned to see a sleek black SUV rolling down the road toward us, tires hissing over the damp pavement.
Zayden let out a sigh of relief. "That's them."
I inhaled deeply, eager to be back in my room.
"Hey," I said as the SUV slowed to a stop beside us. "Thanks for not being a complete ass."
He raised a brow. "Don't get too used to it."
I let out a dry chuckle. "Wasn't planning on it."
He didn't reply. Just opened the back door and gestured for me to get in.
I slid inside, feeling the plush leather beneath me and already missing the quiet of the broken-down car. Even if I had been desperate to get out of it earlier.
As he climbed in after me, our shoulders brushed again—just barely.
But neither of us moved away.
And for once, neither of us said a word about it.