Chapter 7

The neon glow of the amusement park had bled into my dreams, a kaleidoscope of electric blues and burning oranges that seemed to pulse in time with my own heartbeat. I hadn’t slept deeply, not truly, but I had slept in the heavy, luxurious darkness of his arms, curled against the solid wall of his chest. The air in the suite was cool, conditioned to a precise degree that contrasted sharply with the lingering warmth radiating from him. When I finally opened my eyes, the morning light was filtering through the heavy velvet curtains, casting long, dusty beams across the rumpled sheets. I didn’t move immediately. I just lay there, breathing him in. He smelled of expensive cologne, the faint metallic tang of the ferris wheel ride, and the unique, musky scent of sleep. His arm was draped over my waist, a heavy, possessive weight that anchored me to the bed. I turned my head slightly, burying my face into the crook of his neck. He was awake. I could feel the shift in his muscles, the subtle tightening of his bicep as he realized I was stirring. "Good morning, baby girl," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that