Rachel Grey

"Tired." Wrung-out, hung out to dry, exposed, shredded, Aidan could take his pick, but what it really boiled down to was tired. She'd slept, but she felt like she'd run a marathon. So instead focusing on that, she focused on him. The warmth at her back, the slight tickle of breath on her neck, obscured slightly by hair that was getting way too long again. She found his fingers around her waist and covered them with her own, holding them loosely.