Juniper
There is a specific, frequency to Matias Stone’s breathing when he is in deep sleep. It was slow, rhythmic, and incredibly steady the respiration of a man who controls global markets by day and apparently sleeps like a log by night. I lay perfectly still, my head resting against the solid, warm expanse of his hard chest. The cotton of his sheets has a ridiculously high thread count, feeling like spun silk against my bare shoulder. My hand was splayed over his sternum, feeling the slow, heavy thud of his heart beneath my palm. Oh, god, I thought, a sudden wave of panic and embarrassment crashing through my chest. I kissed the ice king. I kissed him, and then I let him carry me up the stairs, and then...
I shifted slightly, my leg brushing against his. The memory of his hands not
