Westley jumped out of the bed with a suppressed scream so he wouldn't wake her from her sleep. He stared at her and, to his surprise, she was still tossing and turning, or more obviously, thrashing in her sleep.
His brows furrowed into a deep, incredulous line.
'I was entirely unaware that she practiced high-intensity martial arts in her sleep,' he thought grimly, bringing a hand up to rub at his throbbing forehead.
He stood guard at the edge of the bed, silently monitoring her chaotic movements for a full ten minutes. Once her limbs finally went still and her breathing stabilized, he cautiously climbed back onto the mattress, leaning over to gently drape the heavy duvet back over her shoulders.
The moment he finished, he lingered for a brief second, quietly admiring the soft, ethereal beauty of her sleeping face.
Without a single split second of warning, Evie's hand flew out in a blind, horizontal arc, delivering a merciless, resounding slap directly across his jaw.
