She really did.
But the warmth of the room, the softness of the bed, and the sound of his voice lulled her into a relaxed state.
Her eyelids grew heavy.
His words quieted.
Her head tipped slightly toward him.
"Come here, sweetheart."Gentle hands pulled her down beside Baddy."Rest."
Chapter 13
Warmth.
That was the first thing Lydia noticed.The gentle heat beneath her cheek.She snuggled closer, drifting into that hazy space between sleep and waking, where everything was safe and slow and unreal.
It was almost like she was sitting on the flowered sofa in the photo in her album, like the child who slept curled up in the corner of the cushions.She could imagine the softness of the couch and the smell of roast cooking in the oven on a lazy Sunday, waiting for the man and woman to laugh as they do on the first page in the bottom picture.
Then she shifted.
And froze.
Her leg was thrown over something solid.Muscle beneath denim.Her arm was draped across a broad torso.And her head...
Her head was on someone's chest.
Her eyes flew open.
Baddy.
He was stretched out beside her, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loosely near her hip like he'd fallen asleep mid-conversation.His breathing was deep and even, chest rising under her cheek in a slow rhythm that made her pulse flutter.
She didn't remember moving.
Didn't remember curling into him.
