She and Roan lay in each other’s arms, exploring each other’s bodies and making love into the morning hours. She’d slept fitfully and awoke when the sun began to spill in through the small window of their room. She groaned, wrinkling her nose. What was that smell? Ah, yes. The chicken and wine. She lifted Roan’s arm from her belly and rolled over, into his chest. He lay on his side beside her, his eyes closed, his breathing deep. She kissed his chest twice and sat up. He had opened one eye and was watching her. “You’re insatiable,” he said, and raked his fingers through her tangled hair. “I think perhaps I am,” she said, as the thought occurred to her. She shifted and kissed his lips, then rolled over and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had been initiated into a beautiful, lovely, tender private world these past two days and she was loath to leave it.
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