His right-hand lifts between us. Grabbing one of my curls off the pillow, he runs it through his fingers, watching as it falls from his hand. Brows drawn in; he lifts his eyes to look at me. And now my heart’s beating faster for a completely different reason. His eyes are weightless, as if he just figured it all out. Problem is, I have no idea what it is. When he lifts onto his right elbow to peer down at me, I have to look away. His eyes are too bright and honest, too strong and sure. Too much.
