Arik had been grinning for eleven minutes.
Liam knew because he had checked the clock twice and considered murder at least once.
Morning light spilled through the partially open curtains in long golden bands, catching on rumpled sheets, discarded clothing, and the pale jacket Arik had apparently abandoned somewhere between the dressing room and the bed the previous night. Liam lay facedown beneath the blankets with one arm under his pillow, his hair completely beyond repair and his patience deteriorating every time he felt Arik looking at him.
"Stop."
Arik's grin widened.
"I am doing nothing."
"You have been smiling at me since I woke up."
"I like you."
"That expression does not mean you like me. It means you are remembering something."
Arik rolled onto his side, black hair disordered enough that yesterday's careful styling had become irrelevant.
"I remember many things."
Liam lifted his head.
"I can have you removed from this bedroom."
"It is also my bedroom."
