No one will even notice.
My eyes drift shut, and the soft cushion molds around my exhausted body, pulling me deeper into its comfort.
Just one minute...
Something tickles my cheek.
I twitch reflexively, batting halfheartedly at whatever it is as my mind claws its way up through thick layers of sleep. Another touch—warm, impossibly light, like a feather dragging across my skin.
What…?
My eyes blink open reluctantly, and I wince, squinting against the light streaming through the windows. Then I see him.
Roan.
Oh God.
He’s crouched beside me, his face so close I can count the individual shades of green in his eyes—emerald and jade with little flecks of amber swirling in them like trapped sunlight.
“Your eyes are so pretty,” the words slip out before I can catch them, my brain still half-asleep and stupid.
His lips pull into a slow, crooked smile, a hint of amusement lighting his gaze from within. That tiny shift sends my stomach flipping, butterflies going wild in my belly.
Geez, stop… it’s just a dream… right?
But I can’t look away from his lips—the way they part slightly, the way they hover just a breath away from mine. One small lean forward, and we’d be kissing.
I lick my suddenly dry lips, and his gaze drops to them, darkening several shades. Then his fingers trail lightly across my cheek—the same tickling sensation that woke me.
Oh.
It’s the gentlest touch imaginable, but it steals my breath asheat slams through me, so sudden and visceral that it’s like a spark igniting gasoline in my veins. My heart races, thundering so loud I’m sure he can hear every frantic beat.
I start to raise my own hand, wanting—needing—to tug at the little auburn curl that’s escaped from his bun and is hanging temptingly near his temple. He goes completely still, watching my hand’s slow ascent with intense interest, like I’m defusing a bomb rather than reaching for his hair.
But before I can make contact, my brain finally wakes up.
What the hell am I doing?
I lurch sideways instinctively, trying to put distance between us—and topple off the lounge chaise with a graceless thud.
Ow.Shit.
Pain flares across my hip and elbow, but my cheeks burn even hotter when I glance up.He’s still there, one hand resting casually on the arm of the chaise, eyes fixed on me.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice is a low, amused murmur that makes me want to melt into the floor.
“You—” I swallow, hating how breathless and flustered I sound. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Sure.” His smile doesn’t falter for a second. “Just... resting your eyes?”
God, I want to die.
I scramble to my feet, brushing off imaginary dust, trying desperately to ignore the flush creeping up my neck. “I have to go. I have work to do.”
So much work. All the work. Anywhere but here.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, straightening up. But his gaze lingers on me, a quiet intensity in those sharp eyes I was stupid enough to call pretty.
