My eyes fly open.
She’s still naked next to me.
Holy shit.
Memories of last night filter through my drowsy thoughts. Every steamy, feverish moment. Didn’t know sex could be that incredible. Probably should have guessed, though, given thesimple thrill of the elusive Jocelyn Mattox pulling me in for a kiss by the pond last night was enough to nearly undo me.
I told her I wanted more, and she... agreed. That’s what that was, right? It took a minute, but she finally lowered her barriers and let me in. She made the first move. Felt pretty spectacular, all things considered. Good enough that I didn’t stop to wonder what changed her mind.
Probably should have wondered.
The sheets are tangled low on her waist, and my arm rests across her. Her chest rises and falls with each slow breath.
Briefly consider sliding my hand up to her exposed breast, but... that’s rude. I kept her up late. I’ll let her sleep.
Beautiful, sleepy woman.
I’d give her a medal for last night if I could. Hell, I’d probably give her a diamond ring if I thought she’d wear it, but I’m leaping miles ahead. I know where my head is—fully ensnared by a heart that belongs to her now—but hers? Hers could be any-fucking-where.
She’s too easily spooked. Must tread carefully now that she’s within my grasp. One wrong move, and she might run.
I slip out of bed to shower and dress, but it doesn’t wake her, so I head downstairs to grab coffee and breakfast. Our flight home isn’t until this afternoon. Plenty of time to linger. Lattes and egg sandwiches in hand—with a side of orange, of course—I reenter the suite to find her rubbing her face, still naked in bed. My shoulder braces my weight against the door frame as I enjoy the view.
Andwhata view.
When her gaze lands on me, she flushes a pretty shade of pink and pulls the blanket to cover her chest. The constellation on her collarbone stands out, stark on her fair skin.
“Morning, honey.” I wink at her.
She laughs, still raspy from sleep. “Good morning.”
I set her coffee and sandwich on her bedside table and toss her the fruit before pecking a kiss on her cheek.
She smiles and runs her nails over the orange rind. “You’ve been busy this morning.”
“Thought I’d let you sleep in.”
“Much appreciated.” She scoots to the edge of the bed, still holding the sheet to her body, and places the orange beside her breakfast sandwich. “I’m pretty sore.”
So much for careful. Unable to help myself, I pull her up for a hug. The sheet does nothing to hide the warm outline of her figure as it presses against me.
This is right.
Sheis right.
But... why isn’t she smiling when she looks into my eyes?
“Asher... About last night...”
That’s hesitation. In her tone. Why is she hesitating?
I release her like she burned me. Everything about her is guarded this morning—opaque brown eyes, tense shoulders. Oh, my god. This isn’t hesitation, is it? She’s bracing herself to deliver bad news.
Hurts like hell, this smile I throw on, but I do manage it. Kicks on the gnawing acid pump in my chest. Might throw up.
She’s wearing the uneasy face. The it’s-not-you-it’s-me face. I’ve seen it before, on too many other women, but this can’t be happening right now. Not with her. Not after last night. Not after she told me she was sure.
But it is. I can see it in her eyes, what she’s about to say.
