She lifted her lids; through the nearby window she could see the sky. A gray light washed over the darkness, presaging dawn, but dawn was not yet here. Her lids fell; she snuggled deeper into the warm cocoon of the covers. Every muscle in her body felt stretched, released. The heavy arm across her waist was comforting. She half sat up with a jerk—or would have, but that hairy arm tensed and held her down. Lying on her side, she sent her senses searching. Lucifer lay sprawled on his stomach alongside her, one arm flung over her. And he was awake. And naked. And so was she. Escaping this while maintaining her composure was not going to be a simple matter. Unfortunately, rack her brains though she did, she could recall no teachings on the etiquette of leaving a gentleman’s bed. If he’d been asleep, she’d have slipped away—and worried about meeting him face-to-face later. Fully clothed, she’d have managed with tolerable calm. But naked? With him naked beside her? If she lay there thinking about it anymore, she’d end in a witless panic.
