Martin woke with a breast filling his left hand and the warm curve of an ass pressed into his right palm.
He stayed still as the last of his sleep faded. Late-morning light slipped around the curtains, but the bedroom still held some of the night's softness. The sheets were tangled around three pairs of legs, and Katherine had somehow stolen most of his pillow after the sleepy argument she and Cassandra had over it before bed.
His body remembered the night more clearly than his mind did. A dull ache lingered in his shoulders and thighs, and the scratches along his back stung whenever he shifted. One of the damp towels Katherine had brought from the bathroom lay draped over the nearest chair, folded once and left there. The room still held a trace of wine beneath the warmer scents trapped in the sheets. That small bit of disorder made Cassandra's bedroom look lived in instead of ready for inspection.
