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A pale stream of early morning sunlight sneaks in between the gaps in the curtains, washing the marble floors with lines of golden glory awakening the extreme west of the globe.
The curtains flow lightly against the gentle breeze of the air conditioner floating through the room.
Goosebumps arise on her bare back as she shifts to lay on her side, eyes slowly blinking open to catch sight of the mesmerising boy resting beside her.
His hair reposes messily on the top of his head, some light brunet strands elegantly falling over his forehead.
With his mouth languidly parted and arm resting on the mattress such that his fingertips graze her bare body every time she snuggles under the covers, Rafe Cameron looks truly at peace for the first time in his life.
His intimidating sapphire eyes are enough to darken any prospects of tranquility but with the permanent scowl and furrow in between those finely drawn brows, his mere gaze has the capability of shutting up almost all of Kildare County.
Never cross a Cameron, goes the saying across the island — one must heed by it by all means lest they might chance falling prey to the consequences.
Yet Georgie ignored every admonition to lie in his bed, smiling quietly at the sight of the grace of the Cameron ménage sleeping with the innocence of a beautiful child hidden from the world.
Slowly — and silently for Rafe Cameron looks too beautiful sleeping — she slips out of the bed and glances around for her clothes.
To her dismay, only her undergarments remain in sight, the rest of her clothes probably discarded outside the room or downstairs in the promiscuous hurry of the night before.
The only real clothing seems to be his t-shirt thrown across the floor.
Sighing, she pulls the material over her head and tugs it down the hem reaching just past her knees as she grabs her phone and tacitly shuffles out of the room, quickly descending the steps to go sit on the couch in the sitting room.
