Page 64 of Spock’s Snare

I want arguments, laughter, quiet mornings, and hard days. I want every complicated, stubborn, beautiful part of her life tangled with mine.

As far as I’m concerned, this is how I intend to spend the rest of my life.

I fall asleep feeling at peace and happier than I’ve ever been.

I wake before Chloe.

For a few seconds, I don’t move. I lie still beneath the sheets, staring at the woman curled against me while memories of last night slide through my mind. Her cheek still rests against my chest, but she’s shifted so her arm drapes across my stomach. She’s almost on top of me, her legs now tangled with mine. There isn’t an inch of space between us.

A perfect way to start the day.

Morning light filters through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a pale stripe across her face. Her hair is a wild mess around her shoulders, and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes. She looks soft and peaceful. She’s positively stunning, even with her smudged makeup.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I trace every detail, committing it to memory. The sweep of her lashes. The faint crease between her brows. The way her fingers curl against my side as if she’s holding on to me.

She begins to stir, her nose wrinkling before her eyes slowly open. Confusion flickers across her face, followed by recognition. Then she notices me watching her.

A flush creeps into her cheeks. “How long have you been staring at me?”

“Not long enough.”

“That isn’t an answer.” She lifts her head and wipes at the corner of her mouth. “Did I drool on you?”

A chuckle rumbles from my chest. “No.”

“You hesitated.”

“I didn’t.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’d tell me if I did, right?”

“Absolutely.” I slide my hand along her back. “But you didn’t.”

She seems satisfied with that answer. Pushing onto her back, she stretches beneath the covers, arms reaching over her head as she arches her body. My gaze follows every movement, lingering on the graceful curve of her neck and the way the sheet slips lower.

Her eyes catch mine.

“Really?” she asks.

“I’m not going to apologize for looking.”

Her lips twitch. “I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to complain after last night.”

“Very.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile remains. Then her gaze drifts toward the floor, where her dress lies in a crumpled heap. The smile disappears, replaced by a grimace.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighs. “I’ve never done the walk of shame before.”

My chest tightens so fast it almost hurts. My hand stills against her skin.

“You’re ashamed of what we did?”

Chloe’s head whips toward me. She stares for half a second before laughing. “No. God, Spock. That isn’t what I meant.”