Chapter Eight
For a second, he forgot to breathe. Lydia’s hair, still damp at the ends, curled in tousled waves. Heaven help him if this was what she looked like first thing in the morning. Soft and touchable, ready to be tumbled. Her eyes widened, and pink stained her cheeks. Not for the first time, he wished he’d taken her up on her offer the night before.
“Hi,” she said, a husky note to her voice.
It might be rude, but he couldn’t stop staring. In the light of day, she looked even more beautiful. Plump lips that invited kisses, curves that cried out to be worshipped with fingers and mouth. “You feeling okay?” he asked when he finally found his voice.
Her cheeks flushed darker, and she cast her eyes down. “I’ll live.” She glanced up through her eyelashes and quickly looked away. “So…
