Hogan lay still, enjoying her awakening in his arms, absorbing the fit of her curved body against his, yin and yang. He’d been a solitary man, protecting his private life. He was surprised that he enjoyed sharing the first quiet moments of the day, cuddling Jemma, watching the dawn slowly touch her face. He ran his hand over the jut of her hip, a woman’s narrow waist contrasting the curve of her hips—a woman’s hips made for passion and for bringing life into the world. Natural and almost fawnlike in sleep, Jemma’s body seemed poised to spring into action. Hogan realized he was smiling softly, floating in gentle pleasure and harmony that he’d never experienced. He hadn’t suspected that this on-the-go, pushy woman could be so delectable when she slept. Her hair slid on his shoulder, tips prickling his skin just enough to be exciting. He eased closer to the soft nudge of her breast against his side—her nipple hardening slightly with the friction. He shifted his thigh to enjoy the slender one tangled with his, to feel the nestled heat of her womanhood burn his skin.
