18
She woke up in Rhys’ bed the next morning. Not her bed in his house in her own room. In his room, in his bed, his tattooed, muscled arm draped around her. She had never been in his room before, but she could see now it looked a lot like hers. It was bigger, with more floor to ceiling windows and pictures of him and the guys on the walls. Clothes were strewn everywhere and there was a collection of guitars over by the window.
Off to one side, was a massive en suite and on the other, a huge walk-in closet that was sure to contain his droolworthy designer clothes.
She managed to reposition herself gently, so as not to wake him. He was breathing deeply and seemed younger in his sleep, his carefully guarded face open and a small almost smile on his face.
She took her time looking at him,
