His arm was heavy across her chest. That was one of those things Pinky liked about men… how their arms were solid and real compared to the flimsiness of her own. In a twisted turn of logic, strong arms always made her think of sturdy and dependable men. She knew that was wrong, she’d yet to meet a man with weighty arms who’d been remotely safe or sheltering, but she liked the illusion just the same.

Star’s arm was heavy across her chest. He’d never fallen asleep before and she didn’t want to wake him. She liked that illusion, too.