Sarah woke the following morning with a dull, persistent headache that she couldn't quite attribute to the pink rose wine she'd sipped in the dark or the sheer, heart-stopping intensity of her midnight encounter with Sebastian.
For a few seconds, she lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to gather herself. The events of the previous night came in fragments—steam, heat, his voice, his hands.
She shut her eyes again.
Bad idea.
Because the moment she did, the memory sharpened.
Sebastian's breath against her skin.
The way his arms had locked around her.
The almost—
She groaned softly and turned onto her side, burying her face halfway into the pillow.
"God…"
With a slow exhale, she pushed the covers off her body and sat up. The room tilted slightly, and she paused, pressing her fingers to her temple until the dizziness passed.
"Okay… not dying. That's good."
She shuffled toward the kitchen, hoping for nothing more than a glass of ice-cold water.
