Book 2: The Handfasting Ceremony

Ainslee

I suppose some people might think it strange to lay on the chest of a man who doesn’t have to breathe and is a few degrees cooler than you are. But I’m mated to him so I don’t really mind. I’m getting used to it.

Rafe is sleeping soundly while I just watch him in the early dawn hours. His cheeks are cool like marble. I ran my palm over one of them, remembering how good it feels to have his cheeks pressed against my thighs. I shiver. There’s something to be said for older, more mature, more experienced men.

Not that I’ll ever have anyone else to make the comparison. I’m just assuming.

Rafe nips my fingertips on my second pass, and I grin as he yawns and runs his fingers through my hair. “You’re staring.”

“Can’t help it,” I reply. “You’re breathtaking.”

Rafe chuckles and kisses me soundly. “We never did get you fed,” he says with concern, trailing firm fingertips over my belly.

“I wouldn’t say that…” I tease him.