The twisted bedsheets do little to conceal the magnificence of the man stolen by the night, dark lashes framing marble-cut cheekbones and lips parted, reddened and wet even in his sleep.
Almost gracefully, the curve of his bicep and forearm beneath his crown of hair melts into a hardened torso that River is all too familiar with; each golden plane, each firm ridge narrows from broad shoulders into a waist that is smothered by silken sheets.
Mild displeasure soaks the human at the fact but she soon finds herself enraptured by Hadrius’ complexion once again. A spell thumbs over her emotions.
The slope of his sharpened nose.
The masculine curve of his jaw.
Midnight hair woven with strands of gold that only catch in the sunlight.
Intently, River’s gaze cruises from feature to feature,
