His clothes were disheveled, trousers wrinkled, and shirt unbuttoned to the navel as if he had hastily dressed. “You’re a bloodhound for debauchery,” Carys said, reaching up to take the tray from him. He squeezed in beside Remy, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into his lap. His lips lingered against her skin as he kissed her temple. It was such nonchalant affection, making Rua’s stomach clench.
