Cullen woke with Grace in his arms. Obviously a heavy sleeper, Grace was lying on her side and had thrown her leg over his. He could smell her old-fashioned lavender scent and the weight of her breast pressed against his arm. The temptation to kiss her rocked him, but he reluctantly stayed the urge. Grace required time. Once they were alone, sharing a room on Stewart Island, he’d try to show her he cared and perhaps seduce her to his school of thought to make her understand they had possibilities.
A future together.
Or he could go with Plan B—a slightly amended Plan A—and let her become comfortable with the idea of them as a couple. She’d fight him once that amazing brain of hers kicked into gear, and he expected a challenge.
He glanced at his watch. It was six in the morning. He knew f
