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He kept her wrapped around him. He liked her there. He moved easily through the apartment, kissing her and holding her, running his fingers over her naked rear.
He felt her sigh, and smiled. It had been a long week. He looked back on the bad-tempered brute he’d been and almost groaned. To have experienced the pleasure that was Cassie, and then have contemplated losing her, had brought him an intense sense of disappointment. He eased her down his body so that he could place her on a bed. She stretched like a sleepy cat.
“Rest, Cassie. I will wake you when food arrives.”
She reached for his hand and held it. Her eyelids were heavy. They were drifting down. “Stay.”
His shirt was rumpled over her body. He reached for the blanket and covered her, and experienced a pang of something like jealousy. She had not slept with the fair-haired man at the bar the night before. But how many men had felt the pleasure of Cassie? How many men had worshipped at the altar of her body as he was doing?
And did he care?
Hell, of course he did.
Did it matter, was more to the point. She was nothing to him but a bit of fun. Fun before he returned to Takisabad to pick up his duties and life. He stroked a hand over her soft hair, a smile playing about his lips.
She was asleep already, and her gentle snore was bleating into the room.
He laughed softly as he detached her hand and stepped out of the bedroom.
And though breakfast arrived shortly after, he waited – impatiently – for over an hour. She didn’t wake.
Finally, he went back to the bed. She hadn’t moved. He stroked her face again, admiring the way her fair head was like an angel’s halo against the pillow. He ran his finger around her lips. They were full and pink.
“That tickles,” she murmured, stretching her arms above her head and batting his hand away at the same time.
“Sleeping beauty stirs.” And he was glad. “Breakfast is here.”
“Did I sleep long?”
Long enough. He shrugged. “You must have needed it.”
“Mmm,” he rubbed a hand across her neck. “I’ve been so busy at work this week. Late nights. Early mornings.” Not to mention the sleep she hadn’t been getting because she’d been obsessing over him.
“Come.” He held a hand for her and she put hers in it. She felt tiny and fragile compared to him. Even more so when he held a chair out for her.
She stared at the selection of shining covers spread across the table. It was distractingly abundant. He lifted the lids off one at a time, revealing an enormous array of foods she couldn’t identify. Her pale blue eyes sought his and she burst out laughing. “What is this?”
“Breakfast.”
“But …” She put her head down, into the palm of her hand. “I thought you meant something like toast.”
He shot her a quizzical look as he took the seat beside her. She liked that he’d chosen that seat, instead of one across from her. “For breakfast?”
“Yes.” She giggled again, rolling her eyes. “When else would you eat toast?”
“Never, by choice.” He shook his head. “It is bland. A waste.”
“But this is … what is it?”
He pointed to the first dish. “Smoked fish with fennel seeds and preserved lemon.”
“For Breakfast?” It was Cassie’s turn to be scandalised. She wrinkled her nose and moved her focus to the next plate.
“That is Mafruka. It is sweet. You will like it.”
She arched her brows curiously. “How do you know?”
“Because you are sweet.” He tapped the tip of her nose and smiled in a way that crinkled his eyes. “And you like sweet drinks, so I am presuming that translates to food.”
