Prologue
Burning
Nyomi
What does it mean to burn?
To truly light up in a blaze of heat and fire.
Waking up wrapped in the inferno of Kenji, consumed by a heat so complete I couldn't tell where my body ended and his began—that was burning.
That was fire.
His scent and essence were everywhere.
Around me.
Behind me.
Over me.
His arm draped across my waist, heavy with muscle even in sleep. His chest pressed against my back like a wall of living flame, radiating warmth that seeped past my skin and into my bones until my blood slowed, thickened, turned molten.
I was cocooned.
Pinned.
Held in place by the sheer mass of this sexy, dangerous man.
Fuck.
Was I going to wake up like this every morning?
Wrapped in him.
Claimed by heat before I even opened my eyes?
I kept my eyes closed, afraid that if I looked, the spell might break. I wanted to stay right here—floating in sensation, suspended between sleep and waking, between safety and surrender.
His breath stirred my hair in a slow, steady rhythm. Every time he exhaled, I felt the expansion of his ribs against my spine.
In.
Out.
It was the cadence of safety.
It anchored me.
His huge hand splayed across my stomach. Those fingers were spread wide like he was claiming me in his dreams.
The heat of his palm burned through the thin silk of my nightgown.
Branding me.
I could feel the calluses on his fingers, the roughness that contradicted the gentleness of his touch.
My neck throbbed with a different kind of heat. The bite marks he'd left there last night—teeth sinking into the curve where my shoulder met my throat.
