Page 38 of Hex Appeal

His fingertips move lazily along my back. I listen to his heartbeat.

This might be the truly dangerous part. Because I could get used to this.

“You're very quiet,” he murmurs.

“I’m basking.”

“In what?”

I lift my head. “My own magnificence.”

He laughs. There it is again. That sound. I wouldn’t mind hearing that every day for forever.

I smile and settle back against him. “I like making you laugh.”

“Don't get used to it.”

“Too late.”

His fingers continue their slow path along my back. For a while, neither of us says anything.

Then he asks, “Do you always light candles in your bedroom?”

“Are you seriously conducting your investigation right now?”

“I'm curious.”

“I make candles, Welles.”

“So yes?”

“Yes. I light them everywhere.”

He grunts.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I lift my head again. “You have opinions.”

“I always have opinions.”

“I've noticed.”

His mouth curves. I yawn.

His hand moves up to my hair. “You're tired.”

“No.”

“You just yawned.”

“That was a sensual yawn.”

“Go to sleep, Serena.”

“I don't want to.”