Giselle Lambert was half-asleep when a face, hauntingly handsome and austere, appeared in the darkness. His eyes, shining like stars, were fixed on her with intense fascination.
“Why are you here?” She murmured.
“I missed you,” he whispered, his hands cradling her head as he pressed his lips firmly against hers.
Time seemed to dilate. When Giselle finally stirred, her body was sore and weary. She started to rub her eyes and suddenly snapped awake.
Dawn had broken; sunlight filtered through the leaves and spilled into the room through the window. The bed was a tangle of sheets, and she was alone. The door to the treehouse was locked from the inside, showing no signs of intrusion.
Yet the sensation was too vivid, especially the unmistakable afterglow tingling through her body.
Walking
