Page 65 of Rune’s Solace

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She woke somewhere around eight, but I knew she was coming up before she opened her eyes because her breathing changed first, then the hand loose against my chest tightened once and she made a little sound low in her throat before tucking her face deeper into me, like she was arguing with morning on principle. I stayed still and let her have the argument, one arm around her and the other under my head, and after another minute her eyes finally cracked open.

She stared at my chest for a few seconds, then at the hand she’d got curled into my shirt, and finally, very slowly, up at me.

“You’re awake.”

“Been awake.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How long?”

“Long enough.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Probably.”

She didn’t move, though, and that was the part that got me. Amy could call me creepy all she wanted, but she was still wrapped around me under the sheet with one leg tangled through mine and her hair all over my pillow, and there wasn’t an inch of hurry in her to put any distance back between us. If anything, she moved closer while she was accusing me of bad behavior, her cheek coming back down against my chest like she’d decided the conversation could happen just fine from there.

I put my hand over the back of her head, and she went still for half a second.

Not scared.

Aware.

There was a difference now, and after last night I knew it.

“So,” she said into my chest.

“So.”

“This is weird.”

“Little bit.”

“A lot, actually.”

“Alright.”

She lifted her head enough to look at me. “Could you stop agreeing with everything I say?”

“Could.”

Her mouth twitched, just barely, and because apparently I’d lost every scrap of good sense I’d ever owned, I ran my thumb over the corner of it.

That wiped the almost-smile right off.

Her eyes came to mine, and the room changed so fast it damn near made me dizzy. Didn’t take much with us anymore, apparently. One touch and all that soft morning silence had something warmer running underneath it, and I watched her become aware of exactly how we were lying, how little there was between us, what we’d done in this bed with the lamp burning beside it and what it meant that neither one of us was pretending it hadn’t happened now that the sun was up.

My thumb was still resting against her mouth, and I should’ve moved it, but I didn’t.

Then her eyes dropped to mine.

Well, hell.

“Don’t do that,” I said.

Her gaze came back up, innocent as anything. “Do what?”