I don’t want to miss a single moment.
44
SIENNA
It’s the heat that wakes me, my eyes fluttering, still half full with sleep as I blink hazily.
It takes me a half-second of blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling before the memories slam into me. Tristan. The hallway. Thebath.
Oh my god. I can feel the heat coming from my cheeks. I can’t believe I did that.
Also, why the hell is it sowarm?
I soon work it out when I glance down.
I appear to have acquired a new blanket.
Tristan is half draped across me, his leg pushed between mine and his hand cupping my breast, his arm half buried beneath his blue robe. I’m still buried in the thick material, and it’s cozy and comfortable, but a bit much with the sun peeking through his drapes.
I give an experimental wriggle, and Tristan lets out a complaining noise. His hand squeezes me before he rolls over, taking me with him.
I land on top of him with an undignified squeak, and his eyes crack open.
“Good morning, Bonded.”
“Ah – morning.” I go to get up, but his arms lock around me.
“Don’t leave,” he whispers. “Stay with me.”
The soft, sleepy words make me blink, my panic dissipating.
Why am I panicking? He’s my Soul Bonded.
But I’m also really, really hot.
“Just a second!” I roll off before he can catch me, frantically untying the robe and tugging it off before I crawl back, gingerly curling up next to him. His arm wraps around me, and his body stills as he registers my lack of clothing.
“I was hot,” I mumble into his side. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand strokes down my bare back, long, sweeping strokes as he pets me.
I unashamedly stretch into his touch, hooking my leg around his as I wriggle to give him full access to my skin. It feels good.
There’s a smile in his voice. “Little cat. You like being stroked.”
The words bring back full, vivid memories of the night before, and I chew on my lip. Tristan pauses in his petting.
“Bonded. You’re thinking very loudly.”
Reaching out, I poke the center of his chest. A green eye cracks open. “Do you regret it?”
The words are soft, but I can feel the sudden tension in his body, the hitch in his breath.
I can’t lie to him. “No. I don’t regret it. Do… do you?”
He moves, and I find myself on my back, staring up into the face of a rumpled, sleepy Tristan. It’s a dangerously addictive sight.
“I have plenty of regrets,” he says, staring into my eyes. “but what we did last night isn’t one of them.”
I blow out a breath. “That’s… that’s good.”
