The counterpane lay askew on top of them, dragged from the bed sometime during the night when the fire had dwindled to embers. Despite the hardness of the wooden floor beneath the rug, she could not have felt more snug. She slid her fingers under the masculine hand resting on her midsection, awed by the sleeping strength in the solid form. Tristan’s bare forearm, sinewy and sprinkled with little hairs, fascinated her in its differences from her own. Cherishing every aspect of his presence, she lifted his hand and kissed it. With an urge to look at his face, she wriggled around, moving slowly in order not to disturb his sleep. The movement roused a tenderness from the previous evening, but her overall contentment eclipsed any discomfort. Tristan stirred but resettled on his back, his profile perfect, his expression peaceful. She loved him...and she had something of his inside of her. In the back of her mind, other matters loomed, complex and frightening, but she pushed them aside and curled up to him, savoring the serenity of the moment.
What do You think about For The Love Of Lila (2002)?
