Sloane had fallen asleep in Jeremy’s arms, and when she woke up the next morning, she had to blink for a second or two, had to remind herself of where she was. But no, this was Jeremy’s bedroom, with the spare black-painted furniture and the bare white walls, as if he’d been so wrapped up in his computers, he couldn’t be bothered to hang any pictures. The bright sun glared in through blinds they’d forgotten to close.
His dark hair stuck up every which way, and his chin was covered in stubble, and she thought he was quite possibly the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen in her life. Deep within was still the ache of what she’d done in South Dakota, but it didn’t hurt quite as much this morning, and she knew that had everything to do with the miracle that was Jeremy Wilcox…and knowing that
