Warmth. That registered first. A solid, radiating heat along her entire right side that felt nothing like her usual solitary sprawl.
Divya's consciousness surfaced slowly. Something felt different. Not wrong, but unfamiliar.
The second thing she noticed was the scent. Sandalwood and something warmer, more intimate.
The third thing was the steady rhythm beneath her cheek. A heartbeat. Not hers.
Her eyes snapped open.
The world came into focus gradually without her glasses. But she didn't need clear vision to understand what she was pressed against.
Vikram's chest. She was face-first against Vikram's chest, her cheek resting directly over his heart. Her hand was splayed across his ribs, fingers curled into his t-shirt. Her leg was tangled with his, knee hitched over his thigh.
She was wrapped around him like a vine.
Horror flooded through her.
She sat up. Fast. Too fast.
The sudden movement threw off her balance. She was tilting backward, arms windmilling, a small sound of alarm escaping her throat.
A hand shot out, fingers closing around her wrist. Another caught her waist. The world stabilized as Vikram pulled her back, his reflexes sharp despite having just woken.
"Careful," he said, voice rough with sleep.
She looked at him and found him watching her with eyes far too alert for someone who'd just been startled awake. His mouth curved with unmistakable satisfaction.
"Morning," he said, the single word loaded with meaning.
"I... you... what are you..." The words tangled on her tongue.
He stretched languidly, the movement drawing her attention to the way his t-shirt pulled across his shoulders. Then he settled back against the pillows, hands behind his head.
"Interesting wake-up call," he said, eyes glinting.
"Why are you in the bed?" The question came out higher than intended.
"Because you pulled me here." He said it so matter-of-factly, so absolutely certain, that for a moment she believed him. "When I came back at five."
Her mouth opened. Closed. "I what?"
"I found you asleep at your desk. Carried you to bed." He gestured lazily at the desk behind them, still covered in her scattered notes. "You grabbed my arm as I was leaving. Wouldn't let go."
"I didn't..."
"You did. Very insistent about it too." His expression turned even more satisfied. "Said you couldn't live without me."
The blood drained from her face, then rushed back twice as hot. "That's not... I wouldn't..."
"You were half asleep. Very sweet about it." He examined his fingernails with exaggerated casualness. "Who am I to argue with my wife?"
"I was sleeping! I don't remember..."
"Obviously. You were unconscious." He tilted his head, studying her. "Must have been quite the dream."
She squinted at him, the world still blurred. Something in his expression, the barely suppressed satisfaction, the way his eyes danced with mischief, made her suspicious.
"I don't believe you."