Amelia sat on her bed, constantly checking the small clock on her lampstand. It was late yet Cullen hadn't returned home. It disturbed her.
No matter how disturbed she was, she kicked against calling him. She called him once ready and that should be enough if she didn't want to get under his skin.
As if on cue, there was a soft knock on her door before the knob twisted. Her eyes lit up with beautiful sparks and she sat up on the bed.
Cullen's unholy strong masculine body walked through his door. He first paused at the door and stared at her with an unreadable expression.
His stare created butterflies in her stomach and she felt all giggly. Cullen's expression softened in seconds.
"I don't like the fact you're still up," Cullen said approaching her bed.
For someone who spoke about being displeased, his expression and donation said otherwise. Rather than keeping up with his words, he sounded pleased.