Forty-two
I wake up with Brandon’s arms around my waist, his leg between mine and our bodies pressed against each other. My muscles scream in protest when I try to push him off in an attempt to get out of the bed and a new wave of annoyance hits me when his arms tighten around my waist. He stirs, runs his fingers across my naked stomach before trailing a line down my hips. I freeze, waiting for his breathing to return to normal so I can try again.
"El," he murmurs when I finally pry his arms off me, his voice unusually low and his hand blindly searching for me. "Don’t leave me."