The next moment, the hand that had been resting lightly on her waist began to pat her back, one gentle, reassuring tap at a time.
The motion was just like when they were children, when he would patiently soothe her to sleep whenever she was afraid of thunder.
A wave of familiarity and security washed over her, and Josie Quinn's frayed nerves strangely began to unwind.
The exhaustion from traveling all day and the release of tension flooded her like a tide. Amidst the gentle patting, her consciousness slowly faded, and she sank into a deep darkness.
In the darkness, the hand patting her rhythmically finally stopped, but it did not move from her slender waist.
Julian Ford silently opened his eyes. There wasn't a trace of sleepiness in his gaze, dark as ink; only a swirling undercurrent of deep desire.
He gazed quietly at Josie Quinn's defenseless, sleeping face, greedily tracing her silhouette in the faint moonlight filtering through the window.
