Slowly, he inched his hips away from Anjuli’s sleeping body, trying not to wake her. She sighed in her sleep and he looked at her face. Eyes shut, long brown hair tousled and lips curled in a faint smile. On her side, clutching his hand in hers, she looked vulnerable and young. But still very much the woman who made his blood boil in ways that led straight to his groin. His control was as flimsy as the sheet between them. After spending the night in bed with her soft, voluptuous body, her wearing only a tight T-shirt and those lacy knickers that had been haunting him since Viking had thrown her over his shoulder, Rob wanted, needed, to be inside her. Hold her in his arms as she came. No matter what Ben and Mac said, Anjuli Carver was the woman for him and always would be. A feeling of rightness he hadn’t experienced since she’d left settled over his mind, and elation filled him as he watched her sleep. Happiness. His chest was bursting with it and—Anjuli shifted against him—and soon his cock would be also, if he didn’t get out of bed and shower.
