Javier Sinclair was lying in bed, one arm wrapped around her waist. She leaned against him, her elbow propped on his chest and her hand resting against her cheek.
Celeste Grant's eyes fell upon his face, only to see that he was already watching her. She reached out and tapped his forehead. "Hey, where are you looking? I'm talking to you."
"I'm listening," he said in a low voice. "Go on, my dear." As he spoke, his hand slid up from her waist, his fingers trailing from her shoulder to her pale neck.
Celeste Grant blushed at his touch and said his name through gritted teeth.
"Javier Sinclair."
He simply raised an eyebrow.
"Mm, I'm here."
His voice was deep and magnetic, laced with indulgence.
Celeste Grant grabbed his hand and pinned it down.
"Move again, and I'll kick you under the bed."
"Then I won't move."
