CHAPTER FIFTY ONE SOMETHING LIKE LOVE
Arielle stirred first. The sheets were soft, tangled around her legs, the air around them still heavy with the scent of heat and citrus bodywash. She felt sore in the best way—like her body had been thoroughly explored, worshipped, loved. Damien lay beside her, still half-asleep, his arm slung over her waist like he’d been afraid she might disappear during the night. She smiled and shifted slightly. His lashes fluttered open, and the sleepy smile he gave her made her heart stutter. “Good morning,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “It’s still night,” she whispered back, tracing a finger over his jawline. He turned and kissed her fingertip. “Then it’s a good night.” She giggled, snuggling into his chest. “I can’t feel my legs.” “Mission accomplished.” She laughed louder, and Damien
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