"Relax," he whispered into her hair. "Or don't blame me for going back on my promise."
That simple warning did something to her.
She let out a long shaky breath, trying to will her body to settle.
But it was impossible to ignore the heat of Jace behind her—the steady rhythm of his breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her back and the curve of his palm resting lightly on her waist as if even in sleep, he would keep her cradled to peace.
"I am trying to relax," she whispered, not daring to move.
"Mmm," came his quiet hum. "You're doing a terrible job."
She huffed, a soft almost-laugh, and tucked her hands beneath her cheek. "This is a very compromising position, you know."
"I'm well aware." His breath warmed the nape of her neck. "I'm also behaving like a saint. Tell the history books."
Grace smiled despite herself. "You'll want statues next."
