The sound of raised voices wakes me up. I sit, pushing the wild tangles of hair out of my face. I'm groggy, unable to focus for a minute. I must've been far more tired than I thought when Diogo brought me downstairs. He helped me take my clothes off, then laid me down and kissed his way down and then up my body. Not in a s****l way, though I was plenty turned on by the time he finished. His exploration was sensual, worshipping. He kissed each healing scrape, kissed my hipbones and ribs, the arch of my feet, the tip of my nose and the top of my head. Then he turned me onto my side and pressed his lips against the birdcage tattoo on my back.
A possessive reminder of my place in his life? I don't know, and in the moment, I didn't care. I felt safe and satisfied, drifting to sleep in my husb
