Page 27 of Ache
“I take it you slept well?”
“What gave it away?”
“Your snoring.”
“I don’t snore.” I slap his chest with the back of my hand.
“Okay, I wouldn’t technically call it snoring, but you do make sounds.”
“Sounds?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He runs one fingertip along my hairline. “You squeak.”
“Squeak?”
“And whimper.”
“Whimper?” I frown.
“It’s adorable.” He smiles.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” He’s adamant. That arrogant attitude is so the Alec I know. “Your roots are red.” He’s inspecting me.
“I’m a natural redhead. I dye my hair brown.”
“Ah. That makes a lot of sense.” He walks his fingertips down my forehead to my nose. “The freckles.”
“Yes,” I confirm. “They are even more prominent in the sun.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“Why? I hate them. They’re ugly.”
“I love them. They’re beautiful,” Alec contests. “They become you.”
“My mother used to say that.” I grimace. It’s one of the few nice things she ever said to me.
“Well, she was right.” His hand travels down my naked body. “Where are your parents?”
“Gone.” My one-word answer causes him to stop.
“Dead?” he asks delicately.
I wish.
“No, just gone. I haven’t had a relationship with them in a very long time,” I reluctantly share. My parents are never a joyous subject for me.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His hand picks up where it left off, moving south down my torso.
“Don’t be. I’m better off without them. Trust me.”
“I do trust you.” His movements stop a few dangerous inches below my belly button. I look up into his blue eyes.What now?
