Charlie woke and she was spooned in a stranger’s arms. Totally spooned.

She had her back to him, his arms were around her and her body was curved into his chest. His face was against her hair. She could feel his breathing.

She could feel everything else.

He was wearing boxers.

He wasn’t totally naked.

He might as well be.

Her nightgown was ancient and flimsy, and she could feel his body against her. His chest was bare. His arms, muscled, strong, were holding her tight. Bare arms against bare arms. Skin against skin.

She could see chinks of sunlight through the drapes. The storm was over.

She should tug away, out of this man’s arms.

She’d wake him and he’d been so good...

It was more than that, though.

She really, really wanted to stay right where she was. For the moment the world had stopped. Here was peace. Here was sanctuary.

Here was...Bryn?

A man she’d known for what, twelve hours? Most of that had been spent sleeping. Oh, for heaven’s sake... Get up, she told herself.

But she didn’t. She lay there and let the insidious sweetness of the moment envelop her.