He was so big and strong and hard that the contrast between his physical presence and the soft, sweet breath that tickled the side of my neck along with the gentle kisses he placed there had me shivering. I was mostly asleep and didn’t want to wake up all the way yet, but I sighed happily and stretched so that he could reach more of my neck. His arms felt so right around me. I loved being close to him and was thinking about how glad I was Stark was my Warrior when I murmured sleepily, “You must really be feeling better.” His touch became sexier and less gentle. I shivered again. Then my groggy mind registered two things simultaneously. First: I wasn’t shivering just because I liked what he was doing, even though I definitely liked what he was doing. I was shivering because his touch was cold. Second: The body that pressed against me was too big to be Stark’s. At that instant he whispered, “Do you see how your soul longs for me? You will come to me. You are fated to do so, and I am fated to wait for you.”
