The bed exploded. One second she was asleep against his chest. The next, his body rocketed upright and she was airborne.
Ice packs went everywhere. One hit the headboard. One hit the floor. One hit her in the face.
The lamp went next, knocked off the table. Glass shattered.
Her hand flew to her chest, heart slamming against her ribs. Every future nap she ever took was going to carry the trauma of this moment.
Maddox zeroed in on her.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Of all the ways she had imagined him waking up, and she had imagined several, none of them had included this sentence.
Her mouth opened. No sound came out.
"Answer me. Now." His voice was cold. The temperature of a king who had woken up with a strange woman in his bed and was three seconds from solving that problem permanently.
Guinevere blinked a few times, stunned. She had received many looks in her life. None of them had broken her heart like this.
