Chapter 1: Warm Intruder
Aidan swam up from a deep, dreamless sleep, his mind foggy with the pleasant residue of rest. There was a soft, warm weight pressed along his side, a gentle heat seeping through his thin cotton t-shirt. Still mostly asleep, he instinctively shifted, nuzzling his face into a cloud of fragrant hair that smelled like rosemary and rain. He wrapped his arm more securely around the curve of a waist, pulling the comfortable shape closer. It was nice. He drifted again, for how long he didn’t know, lulled by the steady rhythm of breath against his collarbone.
A stray beam of early morning sun, slicing through the half-drawn blinds, finally pricked his consciousness. His brain began a lazy systems check. His bed. His new room. The quiet hum of the city outside his window.
The weight on his chest wasn’t a pillow.
His eyes snapped open.
The first thing he saw was a riot of red hair fanned across his pillow. Not his hair. His gaze traveled down, his brain stuttering. A smooth, freckled shoulder. The elegant dip of a spine, leading to the swell of a hip currently tucked under the edge of his patchwork quilt. The quilt was draped low, revealing the curve of a bare backside. He was holding a completely naked woman.
His entire body froze, a statue of pure, unadulterated panic. He carefully, so carefully, lifted his arm from her waist as if defusing a bomb. He held his breath. Who…?
The moving van. The handshake. The box of expensive tea he’d offered as a peace offering for taking the bigger room.
“Catriona,” he whispered, the name a dry crackle in his throat.
As if on cue, she let out a soft sigh and stirred. Her hand, which had been resting on his sternum, slid absently downward, over the plain cotton of his shirt, across the waistband of his pajama pants. He stopped breathing altogether. Her fingers paused, then curled, a sleepy, exploratory grip.
Her eyes flew open.
Bright, lucid green met his wide, horrified hazel. There was no slow waking. She was just… suddenly awake, and acutely aware of every single point of contact between them. Her gaze dropped to where her hand was resting on him, then darted back to his face. She didn’t jerk away. She didn’t scream.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her face, crinkling the constellations of freckles on her cheeks. “Well,” she said, her voice husky with sleep. “Good morning, roommate.”
Aidan’s mind was a blue-screen error. “You’re… you’re in my bed.”
“Observant.” Her smile widened. She still hadn’t moved her hand. If anything, her grip had become more deliberate. “I was about to say the same thing to you, but this is definitely your quilt.”
“You’re naked.” The words came out as an accusing squeak.
“Also observant.” She finally, languidly, retracted her hand and pushed herself up on one elbow, letting the quilt fall to her waist. She made no move to cover herself. “We should probably talk about my sleepwalking.”
“Your what?” Aidan scrambled back, putting a precious few inches of crumpled sheet between them. He yanked the quilt up to his chin, a futile gesture of modesty.
“Sleepwalking. It’s a thing I do.” She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, utterly unfazed. “New place, weird stress, my brain decides to go touring. Sorry for the invasion. And for the, uh…” She nodded downward, a flicker of genuine amusement in her eyes. “Hands-on exploration. Reflex.”
Aidan’s face was on fire. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. “It’s… it’s fine. Just. Maybe knock next time? Figuratively?”
She laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the soft amber light of the room. “I’ll work on a knock-off system. Usually I just raid the fridge or reorganize bookshelves. This is a new one.” She studied him, her head tilted. “You’re taking this surprisingly well. No yelling. Points for calm.”
“I’m not calm,” Aidan breathed, his heart hammering against his ribs. “I’m in catastrophic shock. It’s very quiet.”
Catriona’s grin was brilliant. “I like you. You’re funny.” She swung her legs out of the bed, standing up in a fluid, unselfconscious motion. Aidan’s eyes shot instinctively to the ceiling, focusing on a faint water stain near the light fixture. He heard the soft rustle of fabric.
“Okay,” she said. “You can look now. Mostly.”
She had pulled a threadbare, faded band t-shirt from his floor—his floor—over her head. It hung on her, the hem brushing mid-thigh. She ran her hands through her wild hair. “Right. So. Ground rules. If you find me wandering, just gently guide me back to my room. Don’t try to wake me up mid-session, they say that’s disorienting. And maybe… keep your door locked if you’re feeling precious.”
She was already heading for the door, as casually as if she’d just dropped by to borrow milk. She paused with her hand on the knob, looking back over her shoulder. Her green eyes were sharp, knowing, and held none of the embarrassment that was currently liquefying his insides.
“Oh, and Aidan?” Her voice was light, conversational.
“Yeah?”
“For the record,” she said, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “That’s an impressive piece of engineering you’re working with. Even half-asleep, it was… notable. Have a good day.”
She slipped out, closing the door with a soft, definitive click.
Aidan stared at the empty space where she’d been. The scent of rosemary and rain still lingered on his sheets. He slowly collapsed back onto his pillows, one arm flung over his eyes. The quiet room seemed to pulse around him. He could still feel the ghost of her weight, the startling heat of her skin, the casual, devastating grip of her hand.
From the hallway, he heard the muffled sound of the shower starting. His brain, finally rebooting, provided a useless, looping thought: Astronomy engineer. Rock climbing. Managed to not die of embarrassment. And then, unbidden, a vivid, precise image of her smirk, her freckles, her bright green eyes holding his without a shred of apology.
He groaned, a long, low sound of utter confusion, and knew, with absolute certainty, that saving money on rent was going to be far more complicated than he’d ever imagined.