"It protects me from the storm," Queen mumbled dramatically.
Drake rolled his eyes in the dark. "Quit being a big baby!"
He tugged again, and the duvet shifted halfway—before she reclaimed it. But before he could argue further, a violent thunderclap cracked across the sky.
Queen let out a tiny, yelp and quite literally flew into Drake's arms—duvet and all. Her face buried in his chest, hands gripping his shoulders.
Drake's arms wrapped around her on instinct. Warm. Protective. What in the hot pink hell was happening?
"It's okay. It's gone now," he murmured. But she didn't move. Not an inch. She clung tighter, burrowing into his warmth.
"Okay. You can have the duvet," he added, surrendering completely.
"Just hold me," she whispered.
"Okay," he said again, barely breathing.
