Max Markow slept like the dead.
It shouldn’t have surprised Serena. This was, after all, his downtime. But when she woke up at four o’clock, wide awake, with his arm heavy around her midsection and his nose buried in her hair, it had taken very little effort to escape the bed without waking him. The mattress had squeaked, and she’d accidentally kicked his shin trying to slide out from where he had her pinned, but when she stood next to the bed, waiting to see if he would stir, nothing happened.
He laid there with his dark hair hiding half his face, his long lashes hiding those amazing blue eyes, his sensual mouth as soft and relaxed as it was in any of his devastating smiles. It was mildly disconcerting not to see any movement in his chest, but Serena ignored the faint disquiet to focus
