Chapter 94

• The cool air that wisps over Annabelle's skin is a stark contrast to the radiating heat pressing against her. Her sleep-induced haze slowly clears from her mind as her eyes flutter open, startled and squinting at the natural light filtering in through the open windows. Awareness seeps into her of where she is—whom she’s with—when she hears the crash of surf below mixed with the cry of seagulls.
• She starts to shift in the sinfully comfortable bed, wanting to. stretch her muscles that oddly she finds sore, until she realizes why. Sex, sex, and more sex. A smug smile crosses her lips at the thought of actually being sore from having too much sex. And it’s not a complaint. The other obstacle preventing her movement is the source of heat keeping her warm despite the chilly morning breeze flowing in from outside. She is lying on her back, and Nicholas is wrapped around her like a vine. He is on his side, one leg bent and slung over hers, and his hand splays possessively over her bare chest with his palm cupping her breast. She turns to find his head half on her pillow, half on his.
• She studies his face: the angles, the fan of thick, dark lashes against his golden skin, the curve adding character to the ridge of his nose. She reaches over and brushes an errant lock of hair off his forehead, careful not to disturb him. In sleep, Nicholas’s dark and dangerous aura is softened by his disheveled hair, the absence of the intensity he carries around like a badge of protection, and the lack of tension in his jaw. She enjoys seeing this rare glimpse of him vulnerable and relaxed, his kissable lips parted in tranquil sleep.