8
Morning arrived with sweet, slow awareness. Rayne had forgotten sometime during the night that she had come to Oliver’s cabin and stayed there in his arms. As it came back to her, she felt her body nestled against his, and she almost giggled in delight at her own wicked behavior. What would those stodgy ladies in the Knickerbocker Club back in New York think of her?
Oliver lay on his back, one arm folded behind his head as he slept. She rested her chin on his chest and studied him. A night beard shadowed his jaw, making him so very human, so very masculine, and so very real in that moment. She reached up and traced her fingers over his jaw, feeling the slight scrape of stubble beneath her skin. The touch was so intimate, like something only a lover or a wife might do. Rayne was filled
