Page 81 of Tempest’s Torment

Tempest.

My lips form a huge smile, because sometime during the night, we'd moved. I'm on my side with my back pressed against his chest, his face buried in my hair and one of his legs tangled with mine. He's still asleep; I can tell by his breathing—slow and deep against my hair.

I stay exactly where I am, mostly because I don't want to move and partly because I'm enjoying this far too much. His arm tightens around me when I shift slightly, pulling me closer even though he's still asleep.

My smile gets wider, apparently sleeping Tempest is cuddly. I'm definitely keeping that information to myself. I lie there for another minute, listening to him breathe while morning light creeps through the curtains. I can't remember the last time I woke up and didn't immediately think about making sure the apartment was secure and that I was safe.

This morning, my first thought was him. I like that, a lot more than I should.

Tempest shifts behind me, his face brushes my hair, and his arm moves around my waist before he goes still again. "Morning," he murmurs. His voice is rough with sleep.

I turn carefully in his arms, his eyes are barely open. "Morning," I say cheerfully.

He stares at me. "What?"

My brows furrow. "What?"

"You're smiling."

My lips stretch into a wider smile. "Am I not allowed?"

"Didn't say that."

I grin. "You're cuddly when you're asleep."

His eyes open properly. "I'm not."

"You are."

"Lilah."

"You practically have me in a chokehold."

His gaze drops to the arm still wrapped around me, but he doesn't move it. "Doesn't look like you're trying very hard to escape."

"I'm not."

His eyes come back to mine, and the teasing disappears almost immediately. We're close, really close. I reach up and push a piece of hair away from his forehead, his eyes following the movement before settling back on mine.

"Did you sleep?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Good."

His hand moves against my waist, his thumb brushing over me. "You?"

"Really well."

Something about that makes his expression soften. "Good."

I lean in and kiss him, barely more than a brush of my mouth against his.

When I pull back, his eyes stay on mine, so I do it again. This time, his hand slides up my back and he kisses me properly, warm and lazy at first, but then his hand tightens against my back.

I move closer, and I can feel his thickness against my stomach along with his heat, and it makes me bold. My leg slips over his hip, nestling him snug against me. He inhales, low and sharp, and just like that, the mood burns up from lazy to wanton.

His thumb dips, grazing the bare skin above my hip. I pull him closer, arching until his body presses along every inch of mine. He rolls us, slowly, as if checking that I want this, and I do, more than I want to breathe. His weight settles between my thighs, heavy and perfect, and his mouth comes down on mine again.