Logan's POV
Morning finds me tangled with him.
Noah sleeps against my chest, his cheek pressed just above my heart, his hand curled possessively around my waist. The tent is warm with our shared heat, but the outside early morning chill seeps through the canvas walls. Still, I don't dare move. If the Goddess offered me the world in exchange for this moment, I'd tell her to piss off.
His mark burns against my neck, a sweet ache. Mine throbs just under his skin where I claimed him hours ago. I touch it gently, brushing his hair aside to trace the faint indents with the tip of my finger. His scent has changed again too, now he just smells more like me which, surprise surprise, is doing amazing things to my ego.
