I wake up blinking to the chirping sound of Kent’s phone and I groan a little as I turn over in Kent’s arms. But when I look at his face, I grin to see that he hasn’t woken up yet.
Apparently he really does need his wake-the-dead alarm clock to get him up in the mornings, especially after a night of confessions. I smile as I take in the sight of Kent’s handsome face in repose. And then, slowly at first, I start to laugh as I take in the sight of him – this gigantic, fierce, scary man – wrapped up in my floral comforter, his feet hanging off the end of the bed that’s too small for him.
Even though the alarm doesn’t work my laughter clearly does, and Kent starts to open his eyes. Then, predictably, he glares at me. “What’s so funny,” he murmurs.
“You,” I say, pressing my body closer to h
