Half-asleep, I reached for Avery. Somehow, in the couple hours since we'd gone to sleep, she'd managed to escape my firm embrace. Her waist was warm beneath my hands as I lifted her to my chest.
As our bodies came in contact, Avery's eyes fluttered. Then, a moment later, her body seized. Every once in a while, she awoke with a crippling fear that the guy holding her wasn't me, and perhaps someone else.
Someone whose intentions weren't to cuddle her.
I rubbed my warm hand up her back, trying to calm her down. "It's me, Heiress."
"You?" she questioned, still too sleepy to process.
"Jameson," I clarified. "You know, your boyfriend. Thrill-seeker. Hawthorne extraordinaire. Hottest man under the age of twenty."
"James?" she rasped, nearly asleep now.
Laughing, I said, "Jameson, heiress. Say it with me."
"Jamie," was all she could manage before falling back into a deep, lilting sleep.
Kissing her forehead, I murmured, "Yeah. Your Jamie."
