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CHAPTER1
Lynn
Bright, offending morning light wakes me unceremoniously, and the first thing that slices through my consciousness is a thumping headache.
A groan escapes my lips. With a tremendous effort, I pry my eyelids open. They feel so heavy that doing it is an almost impossible task. When I finally manage to crack them the tiniest bit, I take a look around, blearily, and through the curtain of my own hair covering my face. I huff the strands away to have a better look, but it makes no difference. I have no idea where I am, only that I’m lying in a bed—and thank God for that, considering how groggy I feel, I highly doubt I could stand up right now.
However, the preoccupation over my present location goes straight onto the back burner when I notice that there are arms around me. Strong, tanned, slightly hairy, and well-defined, long arms.
I have no idea to whom they belong.
As my grasp on the world around me becomes gradually clearer, I realize that not only am I naked, but so is the male owner of the aforementioned arms holding me in such a secure and protective embrace, and that is the strangest of things.
I’m naked and tangled up in a bed with someone and I have no idea how I got here, and instead of being scared, I feel safe and fuzzily comforted in the wonderful circle of his arms, my back against what feels like a rather muscular and broad chest, long legs entwined with mine, spooning my bare bottom.
It is almost like my mind has not yet caught up with what my body already knows: whatever brought me here last night, I came willingly and enjoyed it.
I can't keep my brain at bay much longer, though. I got to get to the bottom of this, and now, because it doesn't matter how amazingly cozy and perfect this feels. I still don’t remember who the man behind me is.
While I torture myself, pondering the idea of turning back to see his face, a low, rumbling sigh fans the nape of my neck, immediately causing a hot shiver to slide down my spine.
"You cold, baby?" he whispers in my ear, his voice husky and sleep-laden. One large hand delicately, but with quite a proprietary feeling to it, moves up from my hip to my belly, ending at my breast, long fingers gently palming its weight.
“I’m a bit cold too. Why don’t we warm each other up a little?" he asks, dropping a soft kiss on my shoulder, and I can feel the smile in his sexy voice. His beard tickling me there.
A sexy voice that I know only too well. One that belongs to a guy who may be hot as hell but is also someone I cannot stand.
I jump a little.
What the fuck?
It cannot be!
I hate his guts, and he hates mine just as much.
How the hell did we end up here, whatever here is, together?
I focus my attention away from his wandering caresses and his hot lips, still pressing kisses on my chilled skin, trying to recall the events of last night to no avail.
Whatever happened, I seem to be the only one fazed by the situation. He is acting as if the two of us being in the same bed is the most normal of occurrences –as if we were not at each other's throats as recently as yesterday afternoon.
I try to talk, but getting words through my pasty lips seems more difficult than I thought possible.
“Devon?” I finally croak out, barely able to recognize my own voice.
He seems oblivious to the uncertainty in my voice, his hands still at my breasts, one squeezing me, one lazily teasing my nipple to a hard peak.
Against my better judgment, a soft moan leaves my throat as I feel a ravaging heat pool between my legs.
"Devon?" I call again, more firmly this time, a decidedly deluded part of me, hoping the man behind me will contradict me about his identity.
“Yes, my love?”
It is Devon!
Oh my God!
And…my love?
