At some point in the night, we’d both moved, him on his back and me half on top of him, using him like a pillow.

So, when I woke, I got to see him sleeping. Half-naked.

What a sight to see.

Though his face was still harsh, masculine lines, everything was softer now, relaxed. His hair brushed across the faint creases of his forehead—which only made him more attractive, same with the tanned skin—from working outside, I assumed. His full lips were slack, as was the rest of him. He was sleeping deeply. And he deserved it.

I took a handful more seconds to drink him in, to process that Rowan Derrick was truly asleep in my bed, then I got out of bed.

Or at least, I tried to.

Just as I turned to get out on my side, an arm grasped my hip and pulled me back to him.

I let out a muffled cry of surprise and delight as Rowan tucked me into his warmth.

“Like the nightie, cupcake,” he murmured sleepily, running his hands along my bare thigh then upward, across the pink silk.

My body tingled with need.

“Thanks,” I whispered, breathy.

“It was a special kind of torture, coming back to bed and seeing you wearin’ it, fast asleep,” he rasped, nuzzling my neck.

More body tingles.

Actually, I was pretty sure my body turned to jelly then.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I grumbled.

His hand spanned the silk just underneath the swell of my breast. “I figured as much. But you needed the sleep.”

He was right. I had needed the sleep.

I was a routine girl. An early night girl.

Both my routines and early nights had been thrown out of whack since the moment Rowan entered the picture.

Not that I was complaining.

“You need your sleep too,” I informed him. “It’s much too early, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Haven’t had the pleasure of sleeping next to you. So, I definitely notice when you’re tryin’ to get out of bed.” He held me tighter, voice still thick with sleep.

My throat constricted as his hardness pressed into my back, showing me just how awake he was.

Though I thought that morning sex was something invented by Hollywood directors—because who really wanted sex when they first woke up, having not brushed their teeth or emptied their bladder—I was not averse to it. Even though I really would’ve liked minty fresh breath.

I broke out in chills as Rowan dropped soft kisses below my ear. “Could get used to wakin’ up to you every morning,” he said, inhaling. “And the way you fuckin’ smell.”

My spine prickled delightfully. He smelled pretty darn good himself. And even though I hadn’t been interested in sleepovers before, I found myself realizing it was because I’d never slept with the right man.

There was a rustling of a collar then the clinking of nails against the hardwood floor.

Rowan groaned against my neck. “Apparently, Maggie is already accustomed to your schedule.”