The morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite, painting the silk duvet in warm, golden light.
Aria didn't open her eyes immediately. She just lay there, utterly swallowed by the sheer, decadent softness of her own mattress. After over a week of sleeping on an ICU bed that felt like a glorified ironing board, this was heaven. She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back with a soft, deeply satisfied groan, a lazy smile curving her lips.
"Do you always look that happy waking up?"
Aria's eyes snapped open. She turned her head.
Damien was lying right beside her, propped up on his side with his elbow supporting his weight. He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, heather-grey sweatpants, his bare, muscular chest on full display. His silver hair was a complete, chaotic mess, and he was watching her with a dark, heavy gaze that made the air in the room suddenly feel very thin.
