Born in Ice
“Sprawled over the mattress, he slept like the dead. She wished she could have said his snuggled position, and the elbow lodged near her kidney, was loverlike, but it smacked plainly of greed. Her tentative pushes and tugs didn't budge him.
So that was the way of it, she thought. The man was obviously unaccustomed to sharing.
She might have stayed to tussle for her share-just on principle-but the sun was shining through the windows. And there were chores to do.
Her efforts to slip quietly from the bed so as not to disturb him proved unnecessary. The minute her feet were on the floor, he grunted, then shifted to lay claim to her small slice of mattress.
Still, the dregs of romance remained in the room. The candles had guttered out in their own wax sometime during the night. The champagne bottle was empty in its silver bucket, and flowers scented the air. The open curtain caught sunbeams, rather than moonbeams.
He'd made it perfect for her, she remembered. Had known how to make it perfect.
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