Rosalind woke slowly the next morning, her eyes fluttering open as she pushed herself upright on the bed.
Almost immediately, flashes of the previous night returned to her, and heat rushed to her cheeks at once.
Embarrassment swallowed her whole as she wondered what on earth she had allowed herself to do with Rowan.
His kisses still lingered fresh on her lips, and his touch seemed to burn across her skin as though he were beside her right now, holding her again.
He had known exactly where to touch her and how to touch her in ways that completely unraveled her, and the memory alone was enough to make her heart pound wildly in her chest.
Slowly, she rose to her feet and dragged herself toward the mirror. Her hair was a complete mess from sleep, strands falling everywhere, but it was not that which caught her attention.
