Where are you going?”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “If I stay, you won’t get any sleep.”
“Stay,” I said. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.” Lie—such an outright lie.
He gave me a half smile that told me he knew it, too, but nestled down, tugging me into his arms. I wrapped an arm around his waist and rested my head in the hollow of his shoulder.
He idly stroked my hair. I didn’t want to sleep—didn’t want to lose a minute with him—but an immense exhaustion was pulling me away from consciousness, until all I knew was the touch of his fingers in my hair and the sounds of his breathing.

Sarah J. Maas