Larissa's POV
The days had begun to blur into one endless stretch of golden sunlight and stolen moments. Each morning brought the familiar warmth of Carson's body pressed against mine, or the rich aroma of coffee he'd had prepared before I woke.
"Good morning, gorgeous," Carson whispered against my neck one particular morning, his palm sliding across my bare skin.
I shifted beneath the silk sheets, my muscles pleasantly tender from our previous night's activities. "What hour is it?"
"Why does that concern us?" His touch wandered lower, drawing a sharp intake of breath from my lips. "Our schedule is entirely our own."
I pressed back against his exploring hand. "I'm barely conscious."
"Allow me to remedy that situation." His skilled fingers found their destination, moving in slow circles that made my pulse quicken. "Christ, you're ready for me already."
"My body seems to have developed its own agenda."
