To get enough room for his long body, he’d stretched nearly diagonally on the bed. She curled against one side. It was the most wonderful sleeping position she’d ever found.
She smiled and shifted slowly so that she wouldn’t wake him. She wanted to watch him sleep. A stubble of light whiskers showed in the diluted sunlight of the February morning. The grooves his grin carved were just faint echoes of white in his cheeks. His strong mouth showed a sensitivity she’d never seen before. His mop of multishaded hair was tousled like a little boy’s.
But the body exposed by the covers drawn down nearly to his waist looked nothing like a boy’s. She remembered his broad shoulders deepening the shadows in the stairwell of Ripon Hall before he’d kissed her. And the way they’d looked in that sleeveless sweatshirt the day she’d interrupted practice. And the way they’d felt in the gym last week and again last night.
Softly she feathered her fingers across the collarbone that stood out in high relief under his taut skin.
