Page 80

And reality crashes down around me.

Fuck.

I’ve claimed her.

Chapter 13

Belinda

I rise with the dawn, as I usually do.

Only I’m not in my bed.

The realization is accompanied by a familiar—though admittedly, it has been a while—ache between my legs that tells me one very important thing.

Last night was a very good night.

I blink at the unfamiliar ceiling.

Then slowly turn my head.

Oh. Holy wowza.

Damian Leeds is asleep beside me.

My sexy-as-sin Jersey Devil neighbor is sprawled facedown across the enormous bed, one black wing draped partially over his back and the other stretched toward me like even unconscious he’s trying to keep me close.

The sheet is dangerously low on his hips.

His wings are ticked tight.

His tail is wrapped around my thigh—cheeky.

His hair is a mess.

His face is relaxed in sleep, without the permanent scowl he seems to wear whenever he's awake.

And somehow that makes him even more handsome.

Jerk.

I stare at him and wonder if it was round four or five that finally did the poor guy in.

Was there a five? I squint at the ceiling. Then I recall how he took me against the light fixture, his immense strength and his wings holding us aloft.

Yeah. Definitely five.

And really, I feel like I should send a thank-you note to whoever taught this man to do all those magnificent things he did to me last night.

Maybe flowers. Chocolate. A fruit basket.

Something.

Because—holy. Wowza.

I'm thirty-eight years old. I've had sex. I've even had good sex.

But last night wasn't regular sex. It wasn't even good sex.