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A manly fragrance.
Brogan’s.
I gasp.
I was in Brogan’s arms last night.
He carried me to bed.
But where is he?
I hear a light snore. Easing over to my left, I peer over the side of the bed and spot him lying on the floor. His mattress is a thin quilt. A blanket is thrown over his body. One pale arm rests against his forehead while the other is sprawled out at his side.
I creep closer to the edge of the bed, just… watching him.
The sun picks up the golden highlights in his beard.
Light freckles fall across his pale skin.
My gaze follows the line of his neck. Down to his broad shoulders.
Why didn’t he sleep on the bed with me? I mean, it’s not like I want him to be up here, but the floor is brutal and the bed is huge. His back will probably kill him when he wakes up.
What do you care? He’s not your real husband.
True.
You’re attracted to him.
Also true.
What do you think will happen if you invite him on the bed with you?
That little voice in my head has great points. Still, I can’t help but feel sorry for Brogan. He didn’t sign up for us to share a room. I’m the one who barged in on him with my family last night and pretty much shoved him into a corner.
If we’re being fair, I should be the one who suffers on the floor, not him.
Rolling over to the other side of the bed, I carefully drop my toes on the cold tiles.
Brogan murmurs in his sleep.
Wincing, I ease off the bed completely and tiptoe out the door.
Something clangs.
Sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen.
I head there and smile when I see Gwen humming as she places a pan on the stove. She glances over and notices me. An answering grin grows on her ruddy face.
“Morning.”
“Morning.” I take a seat around the island counter.
Gwen turns her attention back to the pan. “Sleep well?”
“Great. Fantastic. The bed was...” I feel a twinge of guilt for hogging up the bed while Gwen’s precious son took the floor.
“Was what?”
