On Friday morning, faint morning light spilled softly through the curtains, falling across Mirabella’s bare legs where the sheets had tangled around her during the night. The faint chirping of birds outside the window was the only sound she could register until she felt something warm and wet slide slowly across her neck.
She shifted slightly, still half asleep, but the sensation came again—wet kisses, gentle and teasing, tracing her collarbone, her cheek, the curve of her shoulder. Her lips parted in a sleepy moan before her mind caught up with her body.
Then her eyes fluttered open and there he was.
His short dark hair fell forward, messy and damp from sleep, his face dangerously close to hers, his mouth pressed to her skin like it was the most natural thing to do.
She blinked in con
