Roen propped his head on his elbow. He could easily see over the bundle. Lily was lying stiffly on her back. Her hands were folded outside the blankets and rested rather corpse-like on her midriff. He grinned when she turned her head to look at him and patted the top of the bundle.
“This,” he said. “You’ve added a blanket.”
“Yes, but I don’t see how that is amusing.”
“You added it because I said I had plans.”
“I added it because we made short work of it last night in our sleep.”
He ignored her explanation. “What sort of plans did you imagine I had? That interests me.”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” she said crisply. “You didn’t explain yourself.”
He chuckled again. This one rumbled at the back of his throat. “Liar,” he said.
“I’m not. And you shouldn’t say that as if it’s an endearment.”
“Huh. I didn’t realize.”
“Liar,” she said, not without affection.
“Oh, I see what you mean.” He patted the bundle again. “I propose we make short work of this now. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a bad idea.”
“Really? Because I had the impression earlier that you might be open to dispensing with it.”
“Your impression was incorrect.”
“I don’t think so. That kiss in the kitchen was powerfully persuasive.”
“You took advantage. We’d just come inside and I was cold.”
“That explains why you let me hold your hands.”
“Yes, well, the rest just happened.”
“Are you blushing? I can’t tell if you’re blushing and it seems as if you might be.”
Lily’s cheeks puffed as she blew out a breath. She turned her head away and stared at the ceiling. After a moment, she closed her eyes. “Good night, Roen.”
Roen’s head collapsed onto the pillow as he unfolded his elbow. She couldn’t see it, but he was smiling to himself. “Good night, Lily.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The bundle did not come unrolled as much as it was pushed out of the way. Lily might have done it when she burrowed deeper into the mattress and sought out Roen’s warmth in her sleep, or it could have been Roen who shoved it toward the foot of the bed because he did, in fact, have plans that dreams did not deny.
Lily’s soft murmur had the sound of satisfaction as she fit her bottom against the cradle of Roen’s thighs. His arm slipped around her waist, holding her in place. She laid a hand over it, keeping him there.
A warm breath stirred her hair. Individual silken threads tickled her temple and brushed her cheek. She moved her head slightly to dislodge them. Something rested against the crown of her head. It was pleasantly abrasive against her scalp. She didn’t think about what it was. She wasn’t thinking at all.
Roen’s nostrils flared slightly as he breathed in a fragrance he identified only as Lily. His chin rubbed her hair; the nighttime stubble moved strands of it and released more of its freshly washed scent.
It happened naturally, not by design, that their mouths found each other. Her lips parted under his, mirroring his touch until the balance shifted and he was mirroring hers. She was no longer nested in his thighs but instead was lying on her back with his weight pressing comfortably against her side. Perhaps if she had felt restrained, she would have woken then, but having him so close felt the opposite of that. She felt as if she’d chosen this and there was freedom in choice.
Roen’s lips found the gentle hollow behind her ear. He kissed her there. He kissed her again on the corner of hermouth, her jaw, and where the pulse beat in her neck. He wound the ribbon that closed the neckline of her nightgown around his index finger and tugged. The gown parted. His mouth found her collarbone and traveled the length of it before he returned to the base of her throat.
Lily lifted her chin and gave herself up to the warmth of his mouth, and when he moved lower and left a damp trail of kisses on his way to her breasts, she gave herself up to that, too. His mouth closed over her aureole. The thin fabric of her nightgown was much less of a barrier than the bundling blankets had ever been. A barely formed thought flitted through her mind: She should have worn flannel.
