Once again, she had rolled closer to him.
Her legs were tangled between his, her arms looped around his waist like a koala clinging to a tree.
Yes, she should be embarrassed.
But his scent… mixed with the rose and sandalwood of his sheets…
God, she almost wished she could turn into his shirt and stay wrapped around him forever.
At least she didn't feel that overwhelming urge to touch him, or be touched. Maybe her ovulation window had passed, and she was back to normal.
She tilted her head up. He was still asleep.
Good. She could pretend none of this had happened.
But…
Before she pulled away, she allowed herself one proper look. His face always looked unfairly good in the morning, that faint five-o'clock shadow softening his features.
One look became two.
Then three.
Then she was simply… staring.
A man should have no business having eyelashes this long… I want those lashes for myself…
Before she knew it, she was reaching for his lashes. When… His lashes fluttered.
