The first thing Ingrid felt was warmth—too much warmth. The golden rays of the sun filtered through an open window, spilling across her bare skin. The second thing she felt was a presence. Not just near her. Next to her.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she was met with a sight that made her heart stop. A face. Strong jawline, high cheekbones, dark lashes resting against sharp skin. Vesarius Rage. He lay beside her, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, his face serene in sleep.
Her gaze traveled downward, and heat flooded her face. The sheets barely covered his toned body, exposing hardened muscle and faint scars. His arm was draped lazily across the mattress, close enough to brush against her skin.
Then the memories came rushing back like a tidal wave.
The way his hands had gripped her. The heat of his breath against her skin. The sound of his voice, low and unrelenting. The way she had responded to him, surrendering herself completely.
