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CHAPTER THIRTEEN Curiouser and Curiouser
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IN THE EARLY morning, Rhiannon woke to gentle bursts of wind brushing against her forehead. That, and the smell of cologne. Hints of the delicate coziness of sandalwood, the citrusy smoothness of bergamot. Something good and clean. Ribbons of sunlight spilled through gaps in the curtains, turning the darkness behind her closed eyes golden. The arms embracing her were warm and...
Wait.
It couldn't be.
Her eyes flew open. Steve. They must've moved closer together on the bed at some point, because her head was now buried against his chest and their limbs were intertwined.
And he didn't seem to have any intention of letting go. The more she struggled to pull away from his grip, the tighter his arms wound around her. With a huff, she shifted into a more comfortable position, carefully trying to avoid brushing against the lower half of his body. Just as she was making progress, he stirred.
"Too early." Steve's voice, rough with sleep, left vibrations that echoed across her skin. He crushed her further into his chest, nuzzling his cheek into her hair, obviously not aware it was her he was holding. And she couldn't blame him — after her little episode last night, he was knocked out cold.
For a moment, Rhiannon considered accepting defeat, toyed with the idea of staying there in his arms. The warmth was nice anyway, and she hadn't had any nightmares since whenever this happened.
"Quit moving so much, Nance," Steve mumbled, shattering her hopes.
Oh no, he did not. Rhiannon scrunched her face in annoyance, pretending the words didn't bother her as much as they did.
"Okay, you're done. Wake the hell up," she gritted out, trailing her hand up his back and carding it through his hair to give it a rough tug.
Steve ripped away from her. He cursed under his breath, realizing where he was. More specifically, who he was with. He backed into the other corner of the bed with the same urgency as someone whose skin was being ravaged by flames.
