Matthew was lying on his stomach, head turned to the side, one arm flung across the pillow, the other curled neatly beside him.
The covers had slipped down, exposing his shoulders and the long sweep of his spine. And the teeniest hint of buttock curve.
His hair was an adorable ruffle across his brow and his eyelashes were infuriating. I mean. . Did he need them that thick and dark and soft? Really? Did he? When the rest of him was so ridiculously exquisite?
He could have afforded one less than perfect feature. Except I loved his contrasts: his strength and his secrets, like his lavish eyelashes, his delicate collarbones, and the enticingly tender skin of his flanks.
I stared at him creepily for a while. Partially because I could, and Matthew would never know, but also because my pho
