Her lips replaced her fingers on the scar, pausing to linger at the place where his shoulder met his neck.
Fox’s breathing rasped in her ear.
“Enough,” he said hoarsely, tilting her head upward and stealing her own breath with a kiss.
He urged her backward until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. She tumbled backward, taking Fox with her, the weight of his heavy body atop hers astonishingly lovely.
She was a pile of kerosene-soaked rags, and he had just supplied the torch.
Of a certainty, she would burn to ash.
And yet . . . the ensuing conflagration was more consuming and glorious than she had ever supposed.
Leah awoke tosunlight on her eyelids.
She sighed and turned away from the light, only to encounter a solid chest.
The events of the night rushed over her, scalding her cheeks and igniting a low hum in her blood.
Well. She was good and truly Mrs. Carnegie now.
She regretted nothing.
Opening her eyes, she stared at Fox sleeping, at the fan of his lashes on his cheekbones and the evening whiskers darkening his jaw. Sleep softened the lines of his face—the creases that age, sun, and hurt had carved—and Leah saw through to the young soldier she had met so long ago. That earnest-eyed, observing man cast out into the world too soon.
The younger version of herself giggled, unable to believe this had actually happened. That she was finally Fox Carnegie’s wife in earnest.
The Leah of now simply held the moment close, cradling the happiness in her heart. No, Fox was not a perfect man, but she adored him, even in his imperfections.
She had wondered before how he slept and now she knew. He was neither a sprawler nor a stoic sleeper. Instead, he had moved with her throughout the night, as if she were a star and he tethered to her gravity.
Fox took in a deep breath and slowly awoke, his blue eyes chips of summer sky in the morning glow of the room.
He smiled at her.
Leah feared her heart was physically incapable of containing her happiness. It floated effervescent in her blood, champagne bubbles, fizzing outward.
“A man could get used to waking up to this,” he said, voice deep and rough with sleep.
He reached up and ran a hand through her tumbled hair.
Leah arched into his touch, and then, emboldened, tucked her body against his, resting her head on his chest.
A rumble of approval resonated through him, vibrating under her ear.
We can always wake up like this, she wanted to say.Every day for the rest of our lives.
Instead, she snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to his scar.
His fingers tangled in her hair, stroking lazily.
“I’ve been thinking,” he began.
“Good thoughts, I hope?”
“Yes.” He took in a deep breath, lungs rising and falling under her head. “I need to change. I want to quit this ruinous drinking habit. What if you hadn’t found Madeline yesterday? What if she had come to harm or needed my help, and I was too drunk to be of any use?”
Leah stilled. Salient points, those.
