24
Vesper
“Hey.”
Vesper looked up from Kirael’s couch, where she was catching up on some emails and Crane Co. documents. Kirael loomed in the doorway, wearing nothing but low slung pajama bottoms, his muscular torso bare except the bandages from his wound.
“Hey,” she said, shutting her laptop. “There you are. I was starting to worry that you might not ever wake up.”
“How long have I been out?” he asked, stretching.
Every muscle rippled, and Vesper bit her lip, averting her gaze. He was too much, almost. The heat and intensity of his gaze made her squirm.
“A whole day,” she said, shuffling some papers.
Kirael came over and sat down beside her on the couch, wincing a little.
“Your shoulder still hurts, huh?” she asked.
“Like the devil himself.” Kirael looked her up and down, making
