He lies his cheek on the pillow next to mine and closes his eyes with some relief. ‘Taking a nap.’

‘You’re not going downstairs?’

‘Nope.’

‘What about the settee?’

‘Too uncomfortable.’

‘I thought you said you’ve slept on rocks in the snow.’

‘I have. That’s why I sleep on soft beds whenever I can.’

Chapter 5

5

I expect him to lie there full of tension like me, but his breathing quickly turns deep and slow.

He must be exhausted. Even aside from his lack of sleep and being constantly on red alert, he’s still recovering from his wing injuries, both the initial amputation and the surgery. I can’t imagine what he’s going through.

I lie there, trying to sleep beside him.

The scent of rosemary wafts in through the window along with the warm breeze. The buzzing of the bees near the plants below sounds distant and soothing. The buttery sunshine glows through my closed eyelids.

I turn away from the bright window and end up facing Raffe. I can’t help but open my eyes to look at him. His dark lashes lie in a crescent against his cheek. Long and curved, they would be the envy of every girl. The line of his nose is strong and straight. His lips soft and sensual.

Sensual? I almost giggle. What kind of word is that to pop into my head? I’m not sure I’ve ever thought of anything as being sensual before.

His muscular chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm that’s mesmerizing. My hand twitches, wanting to stroke his smooth muscles.

I swallow and flip over to my other side.

With him at my back, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, like I’m trying to calm myself in a fight.

He moans softly and shifts. My movements must have disturbed him.

I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. He must have turned onto his side, facing me. He’s so close I can feel the electric tingle of almost touching along my spine.

So close.

His breathing maintains a deep, steady rhythm. He’s totally asleep while I’m hyperaware of him lying beside me in bed. What’s up with that? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

I try to shove this whole confusing mess of emotions into the vault in my head. But either the vault is full or this bundle of emotions is too big or too stubborn or too thorny to shove into the vault.

In the meantime, my body slowly arches back until we touch.

The second my thigh touches his, he moans and shifts, throwing his arm around me. He pulls me back toward his hard body.

What do I do?

The entire length of my back is now pressed against his chest.

What do I do?

Hard. Warm. Muscular.