Chapter 7

The cold was the first thing to leave me, or perhaps it was the warmth of him, seeping into my bones like a slow, golden tide. I didn’t open my eyes immediately. I let the heavy, velvet darkness of sleep hold me for a moment longer, savoring the weight of his arm draped over my waist, the solid anchor of his chest against my back. The air in the lodge was crisp, carrying the faint, mineral scent of the nearby hot springs, but here, beneath the duvet, it was pure, unadulterated heat. I shifted, feeling the rustle of sheets, the slide of skin against skin. His breathing had deepened into that rhythmic, heavy sound of a man who has slept off the adrenaline of the night before. We had crashed here, in the master suite of the secluded mountain lodge, after the gala. Or rather, we had been brought here. I remembered the blur of the black SUV, the way his hand had rested on my knee, a silent promise of protection, of possession. I remembered the firelight dancing on the stone walls as we shed our formal wear, not with the urgency of the previous evening, but with a