She had strange dreams in his bed. Not nightmares, but dreams full of tension and hurt that didn’t belong to her. He’d feel her shifting in the night, tangled in the sheets and he’d pull her into his side, cradling her body against his. She’d sigh. They’d drift apart and the dreamswould start all over. He didn’t understand it. Why she slept so restlessly next to him was a mystery. Painful.
In the morning he’d watch her waking and gently move her close to him again. She’d wrap her arms around him. Her fingers would trace sleepy lines along his back, up his shoulder, find the place on his neck that sent shivers through his entire being. Her hands would wander through his hair as she fought the day. She fit so perfectly against him; not like anything he’d ever had before. They’d slowly drift apart again. She’d roll over and he’d roll over and they’d both pretend that the night and it’s gentle waking hadn’t happened. But he knew she had strange dreams in his bed.